My frustration weeps
on palette void of colour...
Bullet through the heart
two mothers pray in anguish...
And...
when you cry for me...
Anna
Wontons? Not now...
Summer holidays,
skinny dipping if you dared...
I often wonder,
generally around 2.00 am...
On the classroom wall
an Iris in silhouette...
...and there he was
perched high upon...
I once was a feather
that clung to the leaf...
The pavement their pitch
a busker and an addict...
On the first day of winter
me good mate sent to me...
My mind....shredded like a bale of straw
caught in the most violent storm...