If I were to fall in love again

whether it be a dying twig,or the birdies singing,the bit of papercarried along by the windor and old tyre discarded.Everything has a storyof why, when and where,and through our imaginationswe should recognise it there.14 May 2008

a wanderer of the freeways in the skyalone above stilled landscapesit glides on snow coloured wingsa messenger of a newborn day.8 February 1982

where giant warships lie sleepingin the waters far below.At the end of the First World Warthe Germans gathered their ship in lineand the scuttled them.Rather than hand them overto the victors of the war.Now the mighty warships sleep soundlywith the fish deep blowin the waters of Scapa Flow.6 February 2008

Its glow coloured the sky.Chemicals explodedas they warmed to boiling point.Hogarth’s assistant Adam Wrightpulled Hogarth from the flamesand across the lawn.The clanging of bellsfrom the Fire Brigade and Ambulancewere soon to be heard.Hogarth was rushed to hospitalwhere he would stay for just over a month.His makeshift laboratory laida charred skeleton on his return.All his work…

Sat and listened tothe morning as it began.The little birdsand their cheery wake up call,loud alarm clocks sounding,car engines starting up,every sleepy head yawning.All getting up and out of bed,and me,I just sat therelistening to it allat the beginningof a brand new day.17 January 2008

who reads my poems,almost every day without fail.She gives me lovely compliments,most I feel I don’t deserve.I try to read her poems when I can,my failing there entirely.The time difference betweenour countries is an awkward thing.I’m normally going to bed,when she comes on board.However, to that PH friend,who live across that big pond.Marci, this little…