Monday, 30 November 2009


I stand beside nude trees,
under a bare sky.
It’s cobalt-coloured – like stripped-bare dreams;
it’s leaden, and naked of life.

The Pavilion is risen tall;
its grandeur all too clear.
If you’d like to take a winter stroll,
why don’t you meet me here?

My skin is chilled
and my dreams hang low –
like a frosty, morning fog.

And I pine for you,
in grumbled tones –
after my keeper,
like a dog.

If you should see me upon the pavement
with desolate-looking eyes,
know there’s a sparkle present
and, because of you, my tears have dried.

And I feel I’m not kidding myself
with the undulations of my mind.
No matter what my temperament,
I know you’ll soothe me in tones kind.

The sky is cobalt-blue
and the leaves are in dank piles.
But I’ll walk these paths with you –
and I’ll walk them for miles.

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