Calendar smoothie 

you are. An autumn sunrise. A cloud. A storm. spring. warm rain. a flood. a whisper. a surprise party. a verse. a flickering light. march. april. may. an argument. laughter. drying ink. old love. the sweetest friendship. a bright morning. a new day. hands. breath. cold. falling snow. an open mouth. December. January. February. Home. Skin on skin. crooked teeth and smiles. a song about loneliness. A song about triumph. 

you are. a full belly meal. September. October. November. a movie theatre with cup holders. a slow evening. Something soft. feather. Fresh mango. Vintage sweaters. black and white photographs. whispers. Calligraphy. hot sand between toes. 

you are breakfast in bed. June. July. August. Stained glass windows. an old building. evergreen. An endless metaphor. an ocean. Every ocean. Everything. 

Pathetic fallacy 

Having fled their native urban clamor, the newcomers greeted the residents of their rural refuge with indiscriminate geniality. To everything living they offered a smile & a friendly word. To the astonishment of the locals, first to respond to his promiscuous bonhomie were the birches. Then why, a farmer asked a groove whose dappled shade he had often preferred to his own domestic complications, did you never speak up before? & why, replied the tree with the stoutest trunk, didn’t you? When the farmer took the question in silent stride, the rest of the grove rustled, their judgement confirmed. Before long , the attention of the new residents was met with a flurry of expression from the long-repressed vegetation. At first it was enough for the naive humans to attend respectfully to the widespread resentment of the thistles, the meandering narratives of the frost grapes, the magisterial pronouncements of the oaks-turning for respite to the sweet & supportive maples, with their general supply of sap. Soon they permitted themselves to be proved by the delicate tendrils of the man-root until offspring were generated, giving the lie to the insuperable separation of the phyla. In time, the proud but challenged bipedal parents were overwhelmed by their intimates new-found urge to connect. Desperate for peace and quiet, they retreated to the urban jungle, where they felt less guilty  turning a deaf ear to that other onslaught of revelations & demands. 

You might think you don’t matter  in this world, but because of you someone has a favourite mug to drink their coffee out of each morning that you bought them. Someone hears a song on the radio and it reminds them of you. Someone has read a book you recommended to them and gotten lost in it’s pages. Someone’s remembered a joke you told them and smiled to themselves on the bus. Someone’s tried on a top and felt beautiful because you complimented them on it. Someone has a memory that makes them grin that involves you. Someone now likes themselves that little bit more because you made a passing comment that made them feel good. Never think you have an impact, your fingerprints can’t be wiped away from the little marks of kindness that you’ve left behind. 

Some words

It’s easy to fall for the risk. 

It’s easy to desire the liar who 

Makes you question your worth. 

It’s easy to crave a temporary hold. 

The idea of someone so cold you don’t have to be bold 

Because you know the price of what you are being sold. 

But think of what’s scary. What’s rarely given beyond the tales from fairies. 

Could you grab the person who doesn’t play games who isn’t afraid to take the chance that giving you their heart might make the plans of running away with the one thing that made them want to stay. I hope one day it’s not easy for you and I. I hope one day you say let’s fly as long as I have you by my side.

I know one day you will realise the loss was not a loss if the fight was worth no prize. 

Mornings

Naked morning light sweeps across my eyelids, pressing my conscience to ignite. I open my eyes and gaze across the room through half shut curtains at the pale sky beyond. Small pockets of the outside blue are exposed, but the horizon remains black and still. I grab my phone from the drawer beside my bed. 6:32AM. Battery 61%. No messages. No missed calls. I close my eyes again and sink beneath the sheets, pushing my pillow as if to another my thoughts. I lay there for atleast 10 minutes, grappling with my mind until we both agree it’s time to rise. I run the shower and let the warmth soothe my body. I brush my teeth as I search for my reflection through the mirrored haze. I urge soft wax through my hair and push it back until it’s nearly patterned. I rub a hand under my jaw, but don’t bother shaving. I zip up into jeans and grey shirt and make my way to the kitchen with intentions of reheated soup and leftover garlic bread that rendered smoke as I catch the time on the oven display. I grab my keys and shrink into my parka, closing the door. A thin sheet of dust has formed across  the windshield but I don’t have time. I jump in and turn the key. 8:47 AM. I hate mornings. 

Start again!

You’ve long drawn out the dawn. Beyond the door lies a hall of shadows that wait to spring to life. We shall obliterate them with the light. “Long since I’ve been waiting my love, long since I’ve been whispering my child”, she croons out from her hidden place in a bed full of feathers. Spread your wings, be born into the day too. We shuffle over to the window in a soporific stupor, heavy with dreams, tossing breadcrumbs out from electric-white shutters. Your tongue is sharp. I go sliding down the inside of my mind, clawing for words to throw back, armed with the handle of a blade. Bullseye. I pin you everytime. I’d rather fly. I’d rather not see the blood and tears and spit run down cheeks rubbed raw. I’d rather leave this place behind, enchanted by the morning light that offers me momentory freedom before your cascade of sorrows. where is that blooming mind of yours that I once visited? find me.lively in your river of sorrow. Bath your son like the christening of the newly born child and we can start again. 

Daydreaming

Dream with me an adventure…

Take me to your wild place, where the mountains kiss the sky. Stand dwarfed with me by the ancient trees whose branches reach beyond imagination.

Grasp with me the tiny flickers of sunlight that filter through the canopy to dance like fires around us.

Lie with me on the soft, moist undergrowth, where woodland creatures scuttle about their business completely at ease in our presence.

Listen with me to the sounds of the forest. Nature’s secrets being whispered in the wind. Wildlife’s soulful calls echoing through the calm.

Tread lightly with me over the life beneath our feet.

Respectful that we are just visitors here.

Carry me over the fast, racing rapids their strength little rival to yours.

Bathe with me where the waterfall trickles invigorating tears from mountains above.

Shelter with me under the mossy overhang as the clouds call the rain to play.

Climb with me the highest peak to touch the cotton candy clouds and wonder at the beauty of our enchanted forest below.

Share with me your daydream soul..