Month: August 2020

Old photographs come,
My brother emailed me them,
And people like them.

Black and white photos,
Of those days so long ago,
Days of innocence.

I sit on the grass,
Eighteen months old I would guess,
But I don’t recall.

Tension running high,
And false accusations fly,
It’s time to keep cool.

I’m bridging the gaps,
And crossing over divides,
And taking the strain.

Painting by numbers,
And outside the faint borders,
And keeping it real.

The pencil lines smudge,
Creating shades and contours,
Giving it some shape.

The work day begins,
A punishment for my sins,
It’s like that for me!

Distractions do help,
A walk, a coffee, or lunch,
Sometimes I switch off.

The time is running,
Around and around so fast,
With a second look.

The seconds don’t wait,
They’re here and then gone, not late,
But each one special.

A slept very well,
How long, I can’t really tell,
But I woke early.

Things, yes things to do,
All day, there are things to do,
And I do do all.

Another week done,
It wasn’t pretty nor fun,
Worse that is begun.

The trouble with it,
The people have their own views,
So precious to them.

The thunder did come,
Angry and loud, crashing round,
All the through the night.

I loved it really,
And went outside to get wet,
A couple of times.

It’s continuing,
The heat’s heavy and sweaty,
I water the grass.

I need the music,
The beats and rhythms playing,
Old familiar songs

The weather’s is good,
If you are a sun lover,
Or a moon lover.

The ground’s hard going,
Hard to turn, nothing to learn,
Just turning up stones.