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,

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

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,

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,

I couldn’t think, of anything worse. From the outside, Looking in. Draining your soul away,

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,

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

Soon as the sun, as life becomes d… I flow with a heart, all the worst… No more can I mourn, myself as I… It’s bright and it’s sad, but toda… like the years gone before, or the…

She reminded me of women, I used to see as a child, at family gatherings. Tired, not quite steady,

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

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

I remember youth and senses, the smell and touch. Fascinated by breathing, in and out. Sunday walks,

Etched, in the valleys of the moon, staring from or to. Blazing the night, The autumn heat returns,

It takes balls, hell, it takes every inch, to keep spinning. To talk of flowers, or the death,