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The Eyes Have It. . . How hard to believe The memories of you I have held fast For so very long. To see you today In your old age And recognise you only By your blue eyes. Still with that Direct sexy stare, Still with the same Naughty twinkle. . .

Don’t Say It. . . Don’t you dare to tell me What I should be doing Or I might finally do The one thing I should do, Which will leave me free of you With far less reasons to feel blue. . .

Bygone Terrace. . . Each time I pass your garden You have added a new distraction. Sometimes a new bush Or a new and pretty stone. Yesterday I noticed that you Have added a tiny antique table With two delicate metal chairs Painted in a powdery grey. You have even put a crazed jar In [...]

In Reduced Circumstances. . . I feel very sad Seeing old people Hurting with every action That takes such time. I only hope that As life reduces possibility, There is increased pleasure In the remaining selection Of life’s offerings. . . t

Toddler. . . those first tottering steps like a tiny drunken matelot, listing first in one direction before staggering in the other, all accompanied with a gummy grin which radiates real happiness . l

After Polio. . . In those days, when Polio struck It went on with it’s grim purpose. It meant a year in the Pauper’s ward With it’s very limited visiting rules In terms of visitors allowed and allotted times. He was strong and he did survive But with a lifelong remembrance Of that victory, in [...]

If You Go Down In The Woods Today. . . As I walked through the woods I actually saw a couple Having a picnic together And they were stark naked. It was like a french painting. I hope that they enjoyed their moment Because I most certainly did. . .

Sum Total. It is a consequence That I did not expect. You spend your time looking For a free, speedy, zipless fuck And you end up in love, With a woman, a mortgage and a life. . .

Hey. . Hey, how can I know nothing about you Yet at the same time know everything. Perhaps, this is the apex of our time, So everything from here on in will be less Than this sum of all our parts and needs. I think I had this picture of perfection And the face I [...]

Red Nails. . . I always thought that old people had disgusting feet because they didn’t care about long yellow nails and cracked heels. I did not realize that their problem is more likely to be that they simply cannot see well enough, or bend down low enough to actually look at them properly, so [...]

All The World’s A Stage. . . It is like a West End hit With everyone’s part down pat, Moving only to the correct crosses, Giving out the scripted responses. It is a comfortable stage With pre-prepared characters. I don’t know that I really have a desire To find out who these people really are [...]

Lost Sheep. . . He is a little lost sheep Through no fault of his own, Out beyond the locked gate of the pen Prey to the sharp teeth of isolation, Alone in an unknowing world. Please rescue and return him In a condition as good as new, Safe in the world of the functioning. [...]

The Ronettes Had Nothing On Us. . Valerie and I spent numerous hours In the white tiled public toilets Near the wrought iron park gates. We would sit there for hours Singing all the latest hits. If we had been as good as we thought We could have been totally famous And owned the whole [...]

Exocet. . . Why, when we share a double bed, Do I wake up in the mornings Perched upon the vertiginous edge of the mattress With you lying flush against me Obdurate in your solid bulk Your clenched fist and elbow bullying me, Unable to move even one small inch In any possible direction except [...]

Maze Of Delights. . . There is a rare place Found between the waking And the soundly asleep. A realm behind closed eyes, Full of connections to everywhere, With archaeological And finely preserved moments. Sometimes so lost in that landscape That there seems no point in returning To the more normal ante-room. . .

Unwanted guest. . . You could see their enjoyment, This pair at a small table for two, Whispering together and being alone. The woman just sat down with them abruptly, Too large for the space, Stomach pushing against the table, Unaware of the not welcome mat Or the created exclusive intimacy bubble. Obviously, the childlike [...]

Country Walk. . . So many shades of brown To match the crumbling leaves That crunch beneath my step. No summer now to bring in brighter hues. All reduced to skeleton and dessicated flesh, Well set off by piles of dried up Mouldering and mouldy dogshit Cunningly lying in wait for the unwary. . .

Cotton Slip. . . What a rare pleasure To walk along behind her In the sunshine, Past the city plane trees. Each time she steps through the light I see the shadow of her body Through a light cotton dress. . .

Betwixt And Between. . . I do not like lifts I don’t want to be stuck between floors. It is just the same with life, No one wants to take a chance On being marooned in one spot, It is hard to follow directions With no definately recognisable point of reference. . .

Ratty And Mole. . . It was just a simple meal Cheeses, bread, grapes And a lemony ice cold wine. We lay there on the sand Listening to the trout jump, Watching clouds pass overhead. . .

Saturdays. . . On a Saturday morning Dad would be out collecting, Dressed in his brown suit, trilby, Orange shirt and suede shoes. Given the times and where we lived He was not only very tall….he was a peacock. . .

Sunglasses Advised. . . I usually wear only black With the odd item of grey or white Plus the sometime ubiquitous blue jeans On certain ‘full wash basket’ days. I cannot wear that colour for weddings though. As a result I have just bought a suitable outfit Which is a brilliant shade of turquoise And [...]

Birthday Treat. . . You baked me a cake yesterday Using a pristine cookbook. It was quite damp in the middle With far too much spice But it was so lovely that I cried. . .

New World Order. . . After heavy rain The world looks so tender, Newly washed and brushed. There is pleasure to see Bright gleaming bricks In surprising shades of red, Sleek blackened slates, and Everything in refurbished tones With all spring cleaning done. Just like an old time Easter Parade. . .

Stunner. . . After such long association, your good looks don’t cut it anymore. There needs to be more inside than you have bothered to develop. When you get yourself all dolled up you can still stop traffic in the street but I know you too well now so the quick fix no longer works [...]

Wednesday Morning call. . . Lying here in bed Watching the sun through Heavy winter velvet curtains, As various dark areas Are painted luminous By the early morning light. Seeing the frill of extreme ingress At the very top of uneven fixings I wait to witness the progression Of the seconds, and wonder If it [...]

Who The Hell Is She. . . It is hard to accept that this tortoise-like person I see in the mirror used to be me, but I know it was Because she used to kick up her rounded heels. I can testify to the truth of that as I was there at the time. . [...]