If I left you now, what would you miss?

Grumpy mornings, silent evenings

And taken-for-granted pause between the emptiness;

And hidden behind the tall tales, adultery;

Mental maybe, but real nevertheless


You dazed me in the park one Sunday’s summer afternoon.

 Your smile was electric.

Later, you hid your patience well

When freedom was dragged from under my feet.

You ticked of the (waiting) time

And I repaid you with monologues of deceit


There are those more deserving of your kindness;

Less selfish, less angry,

And less possessed of my bloody-mindedness.

You bore your cross to the edge and beyond.

Always hauling me back to the fold.

Snatches of love were your only compensation,

Were I a better man I would cloak you in gold


                              The two scenes were photographed  at Rye Harbour, East Sussex

poem taken for my new book of poetry, available @



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