“Masks”

Turn on the light and the just woke up morning mask appears.
When looking at a loved one, the loving mask shines.
Bump into one another, the apologetic mask is there.
Hear a joke that tickles the funny bone, laughter’s masks giggles out.
Learn about a loss, and tears mask the way.
Hold a baby for the first time, glowing the mask is.
Finding a clue to quieten the curiosity mask.
Cuddling returns that soft-featured mask.
Kisses on the forehead soften the anguished mask.
Sparks of energy teasingly spread the awed mask.
Musical reminders pull the fondest mask.
Showing appreciation draws the kindest mask
Complimenting a trait fills the blushing mask with reddish colours.
Concern creates that frowning mask.
Disbelieve raises the eyebrows of any mask.
Sudden pain can bring out the scrunched up mask.
Hugging is such a comfortable mask.
Meeting someone new shows the friendly mask.
Mask on the wall, floor, boxes and even the table.
Will the masks ever leave?
Will you get beyond the masks you see?
Will you take the time to learn my special masks?
Why do you have different masks to mine?
Do you hide some for those moments alone?
If I drop all my masks will you do the same?
Turn out the lights and all masks fall away.

“Olden”

Words often used, never to grow tiresome,
Pages spread in an open book,
Works yellowed with age,
Smiles that never lose that sparkle,
Longing for the refreshments of years ago,
Memories of children games, laughter abound,
Songs, tunes and melodies flutter around,
Pictures, photo’s on the wall, long ago dusty,
The soft scent of blossoms in far off corners,
Flavours of comfort food, swirl across taste buds,
Tattered teddy bears, in the corner of the room,
Moon-kissed dream-catchers, sway in the windless air,
Sunlight streaming through faded curtains,
Magnets on the purring fridge door,
Postcards of travels gone by,
Coloured pencils, sharpened to a stub,
Tears stains on a sun kissed face,
Nose prints on the cracked window,
Hearing the voice of someone gone,
These are moments never old, never gone,
Thank thee for the old and new,
For changes hurts less for some,
Olden of spirit, yet full of youth.
Olden we have become, only in body, not inside.
Olden memories to keep, till next, we meet.

“Woeful Child”

It starts ever so slow.
Creeping in through the threads of body.
The colours turn to greys behind your eyes.
What would trigger this thing we call grief.
Whatever it is, is not gracious or sympathetic.
A memory, song, smell or a smile.
It cares not if you smiling or happy.
In the moment it takes grip, it weakens the strongest.
Strengths the weakest, strips away the falseness.
Lays to waste the single thought, no more tears.
Then they are there, the salty water drops.
Pouring out from your eyes.
Leaving stains of woe for all to see.
A moment’s surrender is no reprieve.
After time the memories fade, woe is less.
Though the hole left in the loss closes never.
Just smile, for tomorrow the grey will have colour again
Remembering is better than to forget someone so loved.
So cry, the tears cleans and renew.
One moment of love, is better than none.
Wednesday child you are not the only child full of woe.

“Red Robin”

Alert you sit on the perch.
Hearing your song, brings hope.
Your red amongst the greys and browns is pleasing.
How graciously you eat the food you find.
Delicate you may look, yet so strong in the wind you are.
What a blessing to see you, even if it is fleeting.
Thank you for visiting my window to the world.

“Anticipation”

Looking around you, unsure if it is polite to look in one direction.
Fearful of possible compulsions.
Yet the craving deep inside, won’t leave you be.
Longing for the sweet delicacies.
A flutter of the wind stirs the wonderful smells.
A little longer you wait, drawing out the expectation.
Graciously you extend your neck, taking a delicacy.
Tentatively you move it around to taste it all.
The hunger pushes once more, be damned with the expectation.
Biting down, oh that first taste is so pleasurable.
Anticipation is soo better tasted than felt.