CaughtTruth is subjectiveWhen it suits you most.You stand like a detective,Munching French toast.I would argue, but not today.Colour clouds this morning.To the door I shuffle, fluid as clay.Waving, muttering, yawning.Slump into car, heart ajar.News on to ground my thoughts.A text at 7am? Bizarre."Happy now? In you I am caught."
When Numbers Are ForgottenWhen you're separate, alone,I'll never phone.When you are meI may love you, we'll see.When we're one,We'll bathe naked in Sun.When we separate,I'll have never known a grief so great.When I reflectWhat I see I won't respect.When we speak again,I'll just be glad we're friends.When we die as two,My last image will be of you.