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.