SONGS

The feathers flow
From head to tail
Whispering to
The breeze
Rich yellow
Like dandelions
The bright green
Of spring grass
Yet all that matters
Is the music of
Their tweets; their
Songs of love
Drifting down my
Chilling spine
Warming it as
Summer would
Colour the world

WANTED HIS OWN WAY

he comes by
quietly...
his hands tied
he says:
"betty, mum
wants to see
you... "
and i go, just
like a little lamb
or brown's cows
trying to skip over
a cattle-stop
only to find: mum
didn't say
he wanted me come
visit he wanted his
own way
and as i leave his
smile is so warm
i slide a tiny wink
over his shoulder

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