The port city and it’s secrets, The Sicilians drapes hung in the… The ghosts beyond the limestone wa… The sad holy brush of James Walsh… The sanctity of the unknown,

She blazes and burns a beautiful m… grabs life’s hand and drags it wit… Never too close, to love it wholly, Yet close enough,

We are like pebbles on a beach. Brought by the tide, yet not born from it. Sitting, and waiting,

A drink. A sip. I sip you and you sink me. The empty bottle, is the saddest sight.

My father talked often, of what went wrong, who his father was, Who he is as a father, Long drawn out conversations,

Brush teeth, Planes overhead, People I’ll never meet, Some words just dance, your words dance.

Wake to the sun on fire, a wandering wisp of a dream, In it’s forgotten desire, a candle… as a sonnet sings sentiment as bri… What is a plum situation,

You have to, jump in with the sharks. They won’t eat you, unless you let them. You dodge and dive,

There’s not enough time, Not for seeing the world, no no But feeling alive, To hold your friend when they weep… For being in a hole,

The doubt of spring, makes winter warm, when all is cold is now gone, The sparkle of night, and the seasons change,

Oh dreaded day, bring light! Nothing less than the beauty that you are, The whispers and winds in mind, Shackled, deranged, slightly mad,