In Absence

The sea is grey.
Thick and clouded.
Steep drops and
Jagged slate cliffs
Are hidden by the
Misted sad water,
That from time
To fleeting time,
Will give glimpses
Of the sharp pearl
White bones of those
Who were foolish
Enough to swim
The sea of absence.


Indecisive Story

I’ve got to tell
You this.
You won’t like
It though.
I can’t make it
Any less.
Than the truth
It is.
Or more than
The lie.
That started this
Sad tale.
I can only hope
For you.
And some time
To tell.
This small set
Of words.
That mean so
Very much.
Or maybe nothing
At all.


There is a noise
Coming from another room,
A ringing buzzing sound.
I think it might once
Have been called a phone.
And people used them
To talk and stay in touch.
Sounds like a lovely
Quaint little idea.
I would have loved
To see this phone in action.
So you’d think I’d be pleased,
That an old handset is
Chirping away in the dark,
Somewhere in the maze
Of this rambling house.
The only thing is,
Unless I am wrong,
You need two people
To make a phone call,
And I am the only
One left.

Just Say

I keep my little checklist
Neat and folded in my pocket
Every where I go it comes
Anywhere I stop it stays
This small scrap of paper
Might seem so unimportant
To me I need it more
Than anything you have
To offer me in return
I can’t tell you what
I have written on here
The only thing I will say
A tiny glimpse just for you
Point one on my checklist
Just says ‘breathe’.