Monday, 14 April 2014

Love like sunlight








The words have been here,

all along.

Love,

like sunlight.

How the days steal by

so many moments

all waiting

to be written about.

And yet today ( because we are both home sick)

my dreams are  of 

The Royal College of Music

singing there, playing there.

Listening to track after track of Choral music

with the longing that never leaves.

Like the longing of words.

Love,

like 

sunlight

Sunday, 23 March 2014

Each other







It was so needed.

The complete getaway

from work,

from all the harsh edges

that life has thrown at us recently.

Trying to unmark the marks you made.

uncross the lines you crossed.

I / we craved that romantic castle

with turrets and open fires

and the dreamy four poster bed.

The way they came when

we lounged in front of the crackling fire ~

lit the candles

that flooded ( in only the way candles do)

the room with the softest light.

I read this , this week ~::~

* You are already a writer, if you love what you do*

So the words were written.

And  we watched the rooks that looked like black confetti in the sky

until their shape burned into our  eyelids.

Listened while the world sang the songs,

softly.

Rested my hand on your knee as you drove.

Dreamed of other castles,

long ago.

We dressed

our hearts

in what they love.

Each other.





Sunday, 16 March 2014

Wind and sea











It was that kind of wonderful.

A hotel full of pearl chokered ladies ~

and the landscape frosty with diamond sea drops.

The pearly morning mist rolled over

the sea wearing a dress of melancolic beauty.

Dawn sung her song to us

with eyes full of hope

and longing

while her breath shuddered in the

waiting trees.

A church bell rang out

calling the faithful to prayer

as I put my hand to my face to shield the burning day.

I dreamed of an old,

dead sea captain

and a mermaid with sea salt on her lips.

I imagined that captain down there

with whale ribs turning his ocean's final resting place

into a cathedral of sorts

( only Jonah would know )

I wondered,

did you  dream of icebergs,

floating like sugar cubes that refused to melt into your milky tea?

The sun covered the sea with glitter

and in that moment

my

heart

linked

with

yours

as

I

thought

of

only

you




Monday, 10 March 2014

The memory of frost




Life has been too

sharp of late,

for words.

Sharp, like pain.

Memories.

Absences.

wanting to write

the words but

thinking

that no one reads them anyway.

Rather like speaking aloud

to

a vacant room.

Waiting for you

like an empty house

until you see me

and live again in me.

Until then my windows ache.


It's been a tough few weeks.
Believe me.

Sunday, 2 March 2014

Twisted in your sheets









Yesterday was sprinkled with

daytime sun

and a sharp bite in the  air.

I wish I could say that February

was the quiet little month

that I always know it to be,

but in fact;

it was the opposite.

Full of tense,

hurtful moments and fractures.

One of them being my heart.

We go on though, don't we?

When I think of storms

I always remind myself of what some others

have to deal with daily,

and am humbled.

March.

In like a lion,

out like a lamb.

That's an old saying my dad taught me way back.

I'm listening to the rain on the attic window now.

Grateful for that part of the sky that I see through it.

Loving that I've watched baby blue skies

and the dimming stars through it for nine years now.

Weathered the storms.

Basked in it's warmth.

Love songs,

sung in silence.

Twisted in your sheets.

This,

this

is all I need.

Hopefully

no more long days

ringing

in

longer

nights.

Come, lamb, come.

Sunday, 23 February 2014

To feel myself beloved









Desire

For quiet.

Calm.

For weeks now

we have been cramming,

cramming ~

dealing with issues of the heart

and yes, the soul.

Darling,

I've gone back ,

once to remember all the words

and again to forget them.

It's now

I need that road less travelled.

I

need

it


to

make

all

the

difference 

Saturday, 15 February 2014

When angels are born








Waken.

Shake off the funny old week that it's been.

Shuffle down

to the kitchen in

the half light,

turn on the coffee maker.

Gaze out the window at the new day

wait for the sun

to reach up to the waiting sky.

Flick on my laptop

and listen to the comforting

gurgle and smell the scent

of coffee beans being roasted.

Needing this morning

to be holy,

significant.

To feel beloved,

beloved on this earth.

Watch  the world beyond the window

tipping into spring

and dream

of when

angels

are

born