The world will be well
Lay down your head and listen
to the lullaby
There is no ending today
and no beginning tomorrow
Sleep will soon take you
Dreams of dragons and magic
Sweet dreaming, dear one
There is magic in today
Wonder in tomorrow
Poetry | Stories | Photography
The world will be well
Lay down your head and listen
to the lullaby
There is no ending today
and no beginning tomorrow
Sleep will soon take you
Dreams of dragons and magic
Sweet dreaming, dear one
There is magic in today
Wonder in tomorrow
Sitting on the sand,
soaking up the sea;
Salty inspiration.
A sun-kissed day.
A light breeze moves the grass in sea waves.
The long grass resists the mower blades, as the yellow-flowered weeds lament never seeing the bees again.
A shiver reminds me that Winter wants to hold on, yet Spring is here to stay.
Hidden from judgemental eyes,
sitting within the wooden place.
Rigid and scared about what is to come,
you hear a soothing voice ask you about
the nature of your day and your dreams.
Hearing nothing from beyond,
only you sit within this place.
The scent of roses is strong,
visions of scent move before your eyes,
and
the different lights modulate and pulse.
The scent calms your fears;
love and kindness replace dark thoughts
of original sin and destruction.
You relax and fall away,
gone from the wooden place of torture and
out into the wild world.
I have been sitting at my computer, floating away in the afternoon sun, looking at the unmowed lawn in the backyard.
It’s nice to take some time to watch without having a deadline, although the backyard looks alive and full of nippy insects.
Saturday is going too fast.

A pocketful of promises,
given without proper thought.
All promises were now broken,
glowing sadly in the darkness.
Another love’s life touched;
Another hurt, grief-stricken heart.
Yellow and blue kitchen tiles,
that old stainless steel sink and tap.
Odd porcelain cups, saucers and plates,
that kitchen bench with roses in a vase.
Strawberry rhubarb pie in the wood oven,
sitting with Mum at her favourite spot.
Once, we used to fight and debate;
now we talk in distilled nuances.
It’s as if we’ve given up the fight.
I miss those days of fire,
when we were young.
clear, cool winter sky
revealing hidden colours
only for my eyes
A quick cheeky wink
Hoping for love’s first nibble
A quick side-eye glance
Discovering a partner
Feeling sorry for yourself