Sunday

Melancholy day

Contemplate on the word hate

As I listen to the offerings

The giving

the words spilling forth

Realisations creeping in

Like stowaways hiding in the corners of a large maze

Only coming out when safe to do so

Leaving breadcrumbs behind to gently let you know

Your job is done

Your reward a nod, a smile, a memory

Surreal feelings of joy but only for a brief hour

Turn sour bereft of power

Only words building a tower

Of the imagining

Then fade to a wispy white above

As a new day begins with the sun rise

Promising the pain will lessen if you don’t think

Another drink

Allow the stowaways to settle

Amidst the nettle

Gently drinking from the golden goblet

Of yesterday

As I listen some more to the meanderings of

The calculating teaching you to step up

Out coax you from the shell you built

As a young one

I’m looking for that shell now

What the hell

You won’t be missed the stowaway tells

Cocoon further into yourself as you protect

What little you have left

Your only regret

The empty promises that were made

Now fade into a movie you once sang

My dear …..