Mornings with Ella

Walking to school with Ella
between jacaranda trees
and hedges of star jasmine,
she talks earnestly
about stuff that is really important.

When, faced with a street to cross
she smiles up at me
and offers her hand.

I gladly accept the favour
and wrapping it gently in mine,
chaperone her to the other side.

We stroll on towards school,
she looking forward to best pals
I, wishing the pavement
stretched onward to eternity.

For the Lady on Valentine’s Day

AD foxylady

If you
Were a shoe
You’d be
Jimmy Choo
Look fine
In Klein
In Chanel
In Armani
In Gucci
In Versace
You’d score
In Dior
Donna Karan
Za fan
Shiatzy Chen
Would yen
To couture
Your contour
No sauce
You’re Boss
Better than Hugo
Where you go
I go


Clothed by Matalan
You’re cuter than
Those zero size
Catwalk guys
With Tops
From charity shops

This fox

For a Dancer on her Birthday

AD tapshoes

With the poise of a cat,
the smile of a child.
Mathematician of the soul,
the complex measures
appear easy
finessed by you.
The dance your pulse,
your heartbeat

A butterfly
opens and closes its wings
in mute applause

Hit and Run

It must have just happened.
The body lay there,
still, at the side of the road.
His brother, or was it sister,
hard to tell with pheasants,
looked distraught.
Had the victim died in an act of heroism,
pushing the sibling out of the way?
The parents were there,
friends too, sympathetic
yet you could see,
glad it wasn’t their kid.
There will be no roadside shrine
no soft toys or cheap flowers from Lidl
no Facebook tributes.
I know this however:
There is sadness.
And grief, great grief

The Call of the Faraway Hills

A boy sits in the smoke chased gloom,
He sees his parents,
Impossibly attractive,
A stranger poised to come between them
Sure wee Torrey had no chance
Against Wilson’s blackness
And you just knew Chris would come good,
The only real cowboy there.
Too clean for Bogdanovich.
“Starrett’s up against a stacked deck”
Was all the Man needed to hear.
You followed him into the town
As he faced down the Rykers
And cried all the way home
In the bus with your mother

In the Home
An old man stares from a window,
Muttering, over and over
“Don’t go Shane, don’t go”.

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