life

Good Morning, Good Night

I thought about you

So I texted to say good morning

And then I thought about you some more

My text, as useful as an unsent one

I thought about you

So I texted to say good night

Then came dawn, but no response

And so I thought some more

Something about a good morning text

A little sweetness to my day,

Something about a good night text

Soothing, for some sound sleep,

Like a pinch of salt or a spritz of perfume,

Blush on my cheeks for a pop of color,

Like a drop of water, making a mighty ocean

The little things go so far

The fewest of words may change a day,

For tomorrow isn’t given

The fewest of words, may be the last you ever say,

Because sleep may come and be deep

So good morning, my dear

I thought of you

And I pray you have a good night

Godwilling, you hear from me on the morrow

When the going gets tough

When the going gets tough

There and then

A pouring, of what we’re made of

No one looks at the bird in flight

To make mention of its fatigue

But let same bird see a falling

Poor bird, with ruffled feathers

When the going gets tough

You keep going, soaring high like the bird

Till you meet ground

Poor fellow, with a few hiccups

You’ve seen a falling?

Get up, you forlorn one

And try again, that you may fly

To heights you once knew

“I know I can trust you, but…”

Trust, like a tree in autumn

Questioned by the unknown

I know I can trust you, but…

Said branches to leaves

Said leaves to branches

Trust may break

Trust may be shaken

Trust may be lost, completely

Like a leaf in autumn,

One may feel betrayed

When suddenly let go

By whom they thought as their backbone

High up on cloud nine

Left to a plunging, cold fall

Like a branch in autumn

One may be shockingly abandoned

By leaves that leave

One may be made a fool of

By leaves that threaten to leave

That may be you, shaken, broken inside

Trust, like a tree in autumn

Broken by the unpredictable

I know I can trust you, but…

Pockets

A day at a time

A tear that will dry

There is a reason,

There is a season

But still there is despair

A hug to say all is fine

A word of encouragement

To calm a racing mind

But there will still be that moment

Hands in pockets, and emptiness felt

Such is a revisiting sorrow

That comes in waves

Such is a daunting anxiety

That comes uninvited

Such is the guilt felt

For shifting the mood

So I ask that you bear with me

You jolly soul, best friend, confidant

One day it may be well

One day the pockets may be filled

With something other than emptiness

Something worth remembering,

Something that will carve a smile

The Little Things

The little things

Do make the difference

It has taken some years

But the eyes now see this

Some fancy jewels

But she, a reading chair

For the lustre many seek after

Is second to a great novel

The little things

Do make the difference

Like a bowl of macaroni and milk

To appease the hunger pangs

Some prefer take out

But she, a home cooked meal

Because temporary delicacies

Wear out this body, her temple

Inspired By Thaxted

Dawn sweep away the perils

That chided me in sleep

Praying and crying out, though nasal

My Saviour, He hears me weep

Turned on side, pillowing my fears

The stillness, so loud, envelops

Reminded of a hymn to repress the tears

Gathering courage, to never give up hope

The day is bursting through

And the remnants of night, they fade

Flee away you woe, perhaps one or two

For today we choose joy, and will not trade

Miss Shelly

Miss Shelly

I call her

For she’s spared these eyes

A humbling moment

I hope that I too

Will someday be a Miss Shelly

She’s clothed in dungarees, blonde hair in a messy bun

She cradles her wee one, who’s also matching her khaki jacket

Miss Shelly

Ever so protective

Very much the doting mother

She loves on her little one

And me? I watch

Till his eyes meet mine

Baby chuckles in delight

What a wonderful sight to behold

Ah Miss Shelly!

She’d do anything for him

She’d put herself last

Miss Shelly, go on and be blessed

And I can’t help but think

Of all the purest connections

My eyes have made

With the very young and innocent

I wish they’d remember

I wish that, this could someday make them smile

I wish they’d know, how for a few minutes

They had made a stranger’s day

Blues

In a world of chaos

Some are choosing their blues

The big ones, the little ones

And they ponder in recluse

So be wary and considerate

That you know not their fate

For some have slept

Only to wake and walk

Walking, but not existing

For some have dreamt

A thousand dreams, yet still sulk

Moping in misery

And for some, they are hoping

For a glimpse of a miracle

Hands clasped tightly

As they mumble prayers of petition

And as for the writer,

She cries out for reassurance

Tonight, feeling weighted more

By the littlest of blues

He held her close…

He held her close and she lay her head on his chest. The silence competing with the tension, till the latter could no longer bear it. Counting three breaths, she mouthed, “Are you sure we’re not lost in ourselves?”

He held her close and she cuddled up to him, like a koala baby and its mother. In that moment, nothing could shift attention from a bond, formed over distance, over texts, over a forged, genuine love. A bond, now released to temperaments and the intricacies of the human connection

He held her close and they experienced a feeling so familiar, previously emanating in waves, now static. This was home, their home. This love had traveled and finally arrived at its final destination. Sunflowers had always been her favourite. Today in full fictitious bloom, they gave their approval. Joy has cometh

Tower

Tower of refuge

They say You are

But to get to You,

Is going to take some effort

Lord be my helper

As I find my way to You

Tower of restoration

I’ve heard You are

But I’m deceived,

By the people so few

Lord quench the lying voices

That stay manipulating my thoughts

Tower of Purpose

Stay right where You are

Because I’m not losing You this time

Be it bend or bump on the way

I’m coming to You Lord

Sometime between sunset and sunrise

Night of…

Night of laments

So why do I see the stars?

For every mistake, a choice I made

Night so contoured

Why do I sense hope?

The haze, slowly fading into the horizon

Night, of…restoration

Certainly must be

Regrets are in the distant

Someday

Someday, worried one

You’ll find the light

Someday, wretched one

You’ll be on the other side

Through the swampy marsh

Over the land mines

Past the naysayers

Beyond any obstacle

Someday, somehow

You’ll rejoice, where the light resides

How many more sighs

Gone are the hours of yesterday

And dawn, knocks behind the window pane

Before we let her in,

There are some matters to resolve

A worrisome heart and a pondering mind

Loud is the silence

But louder is The Voice

Beseeching and reassuring,

That we worry not about the morrow

And spare some minutes to rest

But stubborn as we are,

Owing to our human nature

We toss, turn and fret

And try to reconcile with hope,

With one question taunting, “How many more sighs, Lord ?”

The Best

The best is yet to come

It wasn’t today

Nor was it yesterday

Perhaps, a morrow sooner

The best is yet to come

I tell myself every day

Someday, one day

The waiting time, shortening

The best is yet to come

Said gleefully, because…

Who knows, it may very well be

Right after this utterance