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Stop dwelling in the past they say, it’s tiresome and dull Maudling, filling your day with memories of yesteryear Thoughts cobwebbed by the sepia moments of who I used to be The past is not a comfortable armchair I wish to sit in Instead it’s an old worn jacket I wear like a friend There’s been a long stoney winding road beneath my feet Quiet proof that I have travelled from somewhere to where I find myself today I will not apologise for faltering and turning back sometimes

Why is Friday different ? The feeling more appealing, comfortable It’s not as though I have a job to attend Superintending or bending minions into line No clock to face, no polished shoes to shine No worsted mohair overall from Saville Row No cancelled train to await through morning rain Yet Friday still arrives with softer hands As if the week has loosened its command And all the air has learned to breathe again

Rosalind Tomorrow, tomorrow, always tomorrow Tomorrow is waiting long, gilding our window pane Losing the night upon the fringe of morning Memories of your laughter ring through my dreams Scattering every promise whispered to the furthermost Daybreak finds us, a peaceful sweet kiss Whispers of love between your words and mine We let clouds drift before the sun We kiss again like the press of petals between pages Soft, fragile, determined never to be forgotten. https://www

Penny, tuppence, shilling shining down the stairs and out Frank James and all that ail there and then across the town Thomas the library...

The Turquoise Tie It was sweet back then with Radio Luxembourg under the blanket When our songs were all at sea stolen by Pirate Radio...

All this talk of growing old makes my blood run cold as ice On this a summers day surrounded by honey bees Sweet cherry trees full of...

Blue leather Riekers and a Seasalt sweatshirt, very little hair with a trimmed white beard, a distinct liking for the occasional...

I’m standing here beside myself; I’ve forgotten who I am The who I used to be beneath a tree with summer in his hair Clouds, tumbling...

Early It’s grey again this morning the horses in the field are standing as still as crows teeth The fishermen huddle over rods their...

Singing From Memory It’s a faraway poem without words It’s a where you want to go poem, singing songs without music An explosion of...

There are four fillies in the fields just beyond our house, in the early morning, their silhouettes appear as pale smudges against the...

There was I, feeling old enough to be my father, holding on to the limpest bunch of yellow chrysanthemums in one hand and a carrier bag...

Faded scraps of paper ‘’I love you’’ under a pillow, ‘long ago time’ The world spins on, bruised but unbroken, as the silent wishes of...

Survival lingering in a long song of sadness Sang from shattered voices The world watches, taking pleasure in the carnage A mother’s...

Come she to me with all her red fire hair a’flying Sparkling quietude her round brown eyes Tears a sixpenny piece, a kiss against my...

I remember the first moment as though it were no more than a second ago Her brown eyes… piercing Gleaming,. her dark, dark shining hair...

A light jacket flecked with black, a turquoise tie over a navy silk shirt, black slacks paired with red patent leather loafers. That was...

Blue leather Riekers and a Seasalt sweatshirt, very little hair with a trimmed white beard, a distinct liking for the occasional...

Nightcap Supper First the blue cheese twixt the sharp apple pickle Tickle tang Indian relish heaped upon Bath Olivers as hard as slate...

Standing On The Landing Blowing me a kiss Hissing through pearl teeth a red wine smile I’ll will go where ever I damn well please Oh,...