Ochre Afternoon

The blind moves as the breeze flow through the window; I can see the change sun rays make on my skin, as my arms colour and look like desert sand.
The sun casts strong rays across the backyard, as the cobwebs move and drift between grass, weeds, the fence, and the bees dance on the weed flowers.
A song from the crickets, birds, a few flies, and the next-door neighbour’s air-conditioner puts my mind to sleep, as I soak up the last sunlight of the day.
A change in tempo is on the breeze, as the afternoon drifts into twilight, and the time for sweet soft days of washing going stiff on the line comes to an end.
The heat of the day is turning into the warmth of another ending, another night; I won’t miss what I no longer have on this sunlit day, for the night is bright.
One song is coming to an end and another song is ready to begin, so I fight with the pegs and the stiff washing: waiting for the first fresh Autumn day.

Drifting Away

A sea smell drifts across the street, into my room, and I am called towards the waves.
Drifting along with my favourite thongs and my togs, off I float away.
The sea sounds sing a song of waves, boats, humans, and the thrill of another day.
Dipping a toe, then a foot, then my whole I am lost in amongst waves.

Brokenness

Brokenness,
bleeding from files stacked battered,
bruised and
banded together with six-minute increments.

Blossoming,
beautiful flowers blooming from outside;
bright and
benign, together they beckon and call to me.

Brokenness,
bleeding scent from the battered files,
burning and
blowing away from my desk on the wind.