Oh dreaded day, bring light! Nothing less than the beauty that you are, The whispers and winds in mind, Shackled, deranged, slightly mad,

Wake to the sun on fire, a wandering wisp of a dream, In it’s forgotten desire, a candle… as a sonnet sings sentiment as bri… What is a plum situation,

I remember youth and senses, the smell and touch. Fascinated by breathing, in and out. Sunday walks,

Brush teeth, Planes overhead, People I’ll never meet, Some words just dance, your words dance.

My father talked often, of what went wrong, who his father was, Who he is as a father, Long drawn out conversations,

It takes balls, hell, it takes every inch, to keep spinning. To talk of flowers, or the death,

The port city and it’s secrets, The Sicilians drapes hung in the… The ghosts beyond the limestone wa… The sad holy brush of James Walsh… The sanctity of the unknown,

There’s not enough time, Not for seeing the world, no no But feeling alive, To hold your friend when they weep… For being in a hole,

A drink. A sip. I sip you and you sink me. The empty bottle, is the saddest sight.

I couldn’t think, of anything worse. From the outside, Looking in. Draining your soul away,

She reminded me of women, I used to see as a child, at family gatherings. Tired, not quite steady,