At the dark solstice, the robin reclaimed his place.
Then January was for running amok, a wandering in space.
February found the wren, hiding in the brambles.
There forlorn, and starving into an unforgiving March.
With rains became the change, April is always in flux.
May brought him hope, surely now the light was turning, bringing better luck?
So it is robin’s turn to go now, June is luminous but cruel.
Sweet smelling through July; wren crowed just like a lark.
August is a month of peace, no sparring and no one spurned.
The falling leaves of September, ask for nothing in return.
October, it’s a shortening, partially obscuring night and day.
November leaves us wondering and endless battling, into the fray.
Day. Days without end. It’s what I was wanting and then,
The Day said: ‘I can keep you,’ She promised. Promised me this,
She pulled back my hair, gave me a kiss.
But the Night fell, and with it the hush.
There was no yes, there was no touch.
Don’t promise me, Day, what Can never exist.
The sense of dustiness weighted in the air, like feeling bits of remaining sand in your socks.
From a gloomy corner, you could see him, with his scales, and in one hand holding a feather, a look of intense delight opened like a fan across his face.
Twanging, a sound like a harp, although one could not be discerned - almost a pulse, a beat, or a fast.
I knew the deal. If my heart were heavier than the feather, my soul would be devoured. The very thought sent a chill down my now non-existent spine. But still I could feel these things, why was that?
“You need to love me” he said, a smile like a dark angel forming through the gloom.
It was uncomfortable here too, the cold prickling contrasting with a sweaty pausing. I wanted it to hurry up and be done with.
“I do” I said, though I knew that was a lie. Did he?
My heart looked forlorn in his hands, and it may have been my imagination but I felt like it was still beating, it wasn’t ready to stop.
It wasn’t ready to tell this truth.
Barely touching the sides As I slither through this life Like a skater on thin ice.
My head on your chest A sanctuary from the storm Music, wavering across form.
and chattering Like a bird, but shattering On the rocks, Just shy of the shore.
You whittled me away
I was bobbing on the tides. Lost at sea Gone for a while - Lost in me.
I just can’t help being ‘romantic’…! __
I’m only for now, Not forever. And at that moment when You’ve opened your heart A teeny tiny crack - That’s when you’ll Look for me but I’ll be gone Off the righteous track.
Beaten like a weather vane Left out, like the cat. In the rain you’ll pine - A darkened door Empty feelings left ajar All alone, sophomore.
‘Are you messing with me?’: He lamented. She said, ‘I like doing a lot of Things with you. Dishevelling is but one of them.’
See his Cheshire cat smirk Reappearing from ear to ear Only a morning basking shark Would be proud Of teeth so clear.
Can we be anything? What is it we need? Did you feel the last Millenium Crushing souls with lightening speed. No us, we’re lost, not left, to give.
You said it was like the time when I broke the eggs; The splat on the floor – the gasp, the gooey mess. I laughed, but with pain. And said ‘No’, it wasn’t like that, it was worse. The fragile shells breaking, into pieces and cracking again. The yolks and the whites, merging and runny Like the urge to cry, but such a silly thing to give in. No, it’s so not funny. I can’t just spill it out like those dropped ova, yet I’ve become unstuck like a clam who has lost her footing. And I’ll do anything to take back root, A hireling for un-use, give me something; Give me hope.
