SOFT FOCUS

Misty rainy clings in confusion to my old town. It doesn't know whether to hang around in the air or to fall upon the ground and polish the pavements with an oily sheen. Consequently, the town is in soft focus, which may be no bad thing. I'm not quite yet ready for my close up.

SUNDAY WORSHIP

My body is a temple

But I've no wish to flatter

I have no congregation

I just pray I don't get fatter.

My body is a temple

I sing Abide With Me

But Time says sing the other one,

Nearer, My God, To Thee.

WHERE IT ENDS AND WHERE IT BEGINS

There must be that one breath

That is our last breath

Before we fall asleep.

There must be that one breath 

That is our last breath

Before we then awake.

WHO CAN PHILOSOPHISE ABOUT TEA?

Camus can but Immanuel Kant.

TINY HOTEL BEDROOM TEACUPS

I feel like a giant

In hotel stays

Their cups are tiny

I have to say 

I feel quite silly 

With their contribution

I wonder if 

They're Lilliputian?

ROUGH

My nightshirt is wrinkled 

It's looking real rough

Then I remember

I sleep in the buff.

Timerise and Timeset

Early in the morning, when you're gently pulled from that deep, perdurable sleep, where concepts of past, present and future are meaningless; that's Timerise.

And when you surrender again late in the same day and are softly guided back to that realm; that's Timeset.

COMFORT GROANS

the comforting creaks from my stairs groan to meet me 

just one of the funny old ways that it greets me

I'm grateful and thankful, they put me at ease,

not least 'cos they mask the old creaks from my knees.

TINY HORSE

I thought I saw a tiny horse

But then to my dismay

I was wrong it was, of course,

Simply far away.

BOBBY CHARLTON GRASS

The grass in my garden looks tired and weary. Having been well used and tramped down over the summer months it looks patchy in places. Leaves have started to litter the lawn and nearly cover some of the bald spots in what I can only assume is the gardens attempt at a comb-over.