The tea is mine. There is no room for unfounded spurious claims of ownership. Time darkens, purposeful brew. The fire flickers, roars, shouting at the hand that feeds. My attention is grabbed, enlightened. Background noises comfort. There is peace.
The world in which we live is blowing up Brexit looms May has failed spectacularly And my late train, with broken toilet Continues to evacuate itself Returning every few minutes Behind it’s locked facade To a cycle of self expurgation…
I mountain constant noise,
Stream dances, rivulet in a hurry
Random butterfly fluttersby,
Doesn’t wait for me
Sheep scampers over
Breeze bent grasses
Lichen rock scattered stones
Breathtaking measures pace
Relax and stare
I lie awake in the darkness, listening.
The constant rhythmic flow of my breathing.
No traffic noise.
Anne stirs and gets up.
She doesn’t realise I am awake.
Feels odd without her there.
No touching of bodies, no …
Whisky glass, once full now almost empty, sits there in front of me on the kitchen table. There is no music. Only my thoughts. Thoughts of nothing in particular. No memories. Only a sense of being. Warmth. …