Monday, 29 June 2015

Bird on a cliff

On the ledge, a small bird totters
Then steadies itself with newly feathered wings.

Will it know when it's ready for flight?

Somewhere in my brain, a word forms
Slips out between half opened lips, not fully fledged.

Down drops the bird into an echoing silence.

Will you be there to catch us, that bird and me?

You asked me what makes a relationship?

I said I didn't know.
A peck of time perhaps, mixed with a little liking
And a very large pinch of salt.

And what of love?

How should I know?
I'm plunging down this cliff and hoping you'll be there to catch me.

Wednesday, 10 June 2015

The Wind Moans

The wind moans
And the dragon flies.
His breath is all consuming.
It sears the throat
And her soft flesh.
Till she is lost.
Forged into something else.
Fused by the heat.
Not old, not new,
Not here, not there.
Till time and the dragon
Put her down.
Leaving her chilled,
All ashes and alone;
Long to remember.