When we wrote letters

I would write a letter again

Because once

When we wrote letters, putting pen to rectangles of thin paper, we would write down words in a format

Address ( where I live)

then , first few lines of politeness

Dear sweet friend

then news, sometimes good , maybe bad

inject humour, lighten the mood, ask about you

Dear friend what will it be

This is how we once spoke

Words on paper tucked into the neat envelope, your address, precious stamp, walk to the post box (red)

A week here a week there and then a reply dear friend

And this is how we spoke

I miss how we spoke

And seeing the letters on the floor, handwriting recognised amongst the bills, other letters

Replying to my questions, neat to start with, almost neat to the end then a scrawl for a signature

Fold it back into the envelope, into a box or a drawer

Safekeeping how we used to speak

How we used to talk

How we once were.

Confusion

(Sometimes) when confusion is the queen

The rose petals she scatters hesitate mid air and then change direction

floating to the side a little

not sure where to land

So she scoops them up again

quickly

and throws them up high

randomly

Down again fluttering pieces red and pink

Other and thither not bumping but not too far apart

A breath of air disturbs , almost chaos when confusion is queen

She like to laugh, not in cruel amusement but in a delight of sorts that control is lost and that chasing the petals is futile… but fun

and maybe , occasionally, they will land in a pattern 🥀🥀

So small

Sometimes I am small

The stars are above

My eyes shut tight

So tiny

And the weight, the heaviness of the world is above me

Around me

I can feel small

Painting on board from last year

heron

a swift elegance

I envy the simplicity

the look

the endless legs

the heavy filght so close to the water surface

breathe

I awake and I cannot breathe

the weight is on my chest and the vice is clamped around me tight

I cannot breathe

I take in air and the sound whistles in my ears and

I want to cry out for more air

precious air

I can hardly breathe

Then I realise ‘I cannot breathe’ is a lie because I am still breathing

Its just not so easy

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small light

somehow

amidst the gloom

amongst the debris

we must find a little light, a glow, a glimmer

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at this moment in time though, we need a glow, a bit of warmth a hug from a soft light

a gentle guide to pull us through

did we dance

did we dance together yesterday

or was it in my imagination

a kind of hope that maybe it was real

that we danced

maybe sang even

together?

(I hope this will)find you

It hurt

and so I think , as I am still angry, some day I will find you

(its not a threat

more of a promise)

and you will know the pain you have caused me

you will feel how it was

you may not see me

I may not even be near

but you will know it is I

the pain will be there and

you shall feel how it was. Maybe

coffee table

I read and then put the book down (on the coffee table)

and the book is shut, bookmarked at a place I felt I could leave it

and go back

at will

when I choose

to the place I left off

and if only life was like that

where we could close it for a while then pick it up again at a good time, a convenient time

chapters end and begin

(balancing act) pastel sketch on sugar paper

the feel good

some way or another the feel good thing is top of the list

it must happen

as soon as i open my eyes in the morning

i must feel good

not bad

not letting the darkness in but pushing it away

must be positive

slippers on feet clad

down stairs

planning food

how to feel good not bad

is this healthy, can my gut take it

drink, cleanse, eat food but I still want it to taste nice not just healthy

positive thoughts

foget the anger, let go,( it’ll be something else this time next year someone said)

nothing is that terrible to make you feel bad. no reason to frown , smile

yes smile , that helps