They walk together in the parkat three fifteen each day.Miss Chatham and Euphorbiaquietly make their way.One loved in life, one never held,both showing time’s decay Some note quietly, as they pass,this singular mismatched pair.The lady clothed in Sunday bestand her friend’s wild wispy hair.Both alone, but twinned for life,Miss Chatham and her teddy bear.
There is no point in travelling, when you’ve no place to be. No sense in searching, when your heart cannot see. And no doors will unlock, when you don’t have a key. There is no point in sowing, where love cannot grow. No questions worth asking, of a life you can’t know. And no reasonContinue reading “No point”
A sirens sounds for the daily dance,a game that is carelessly played.In covert signs and coded words,Liaisons are sought, alliances made. But those who don’t hear, or don’t know the rules,are lost in this masquerade. By day they are silent, in the evening alone,weaving dreams that may never see light.Mouthing the words of songs theyContinue reading “Alone”
It may have been just that her balance gave way, that dew damp grass was the the culprit that day. It might have been planned, or purely by chance, that no one would catch her last backward glance We may never know why her life ended that way, if her sight was obscured, or herContinue reading “By choice”