Poetry

Background Noise

Wherever we walk, the world quietens.

Be it woods, coast, park or town,

filled with the trill of birds and scurry of mice,

the crash of waves and sound of holiday makers,

students taking a break after a full day of college

or families and friends out for an evening meal.

 

All of it dulls to subtle hum

in the wake of our path and the intricately intimate maze of our minds.

Even though we know

we have to return to the crescendo sometime,

for the hours we stand together,

peace is all there is.

Poetry

Watering can

After all the hours of pin-pointed work, no end in sight of the path,

I can’t help but dream and long for the touch of a hot, comforting¬†bath.

 

To soak up all my sour maturity, ease out my twisted frowns,

wriggle out of my seriousness and stay awake, lest I accidentally drown.

 

Eternity in such a healing pool might prune my fingers and toes,

but I can say, without a shadow of doubt, that I’m no delicate rose.