The Voyager's Song

I see the shoreline,

black and unremarked

sleeping in secret, supine,

an open door, strong

as a broad Yorkshire

voice,

weak as rags of sea mist.

Soon I shall fetch upon its sands,

where cold silence reigns

uninvited like the early dawn.

Beside me shall burn,

in isolation and awe,

the last bright flower

of an ancient memory...

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This poem is a reverie and contemplation of my mother.

Time and Windows

If the past is a tattered old book,

then why am I a ghost

at my mother's window,

so clear I can sense her mystery,

and her brown eyes, so alive?

Look, I can fly to her

through the high windows

of my memory

until I'm so close that she disappears,

and the curtain flutters silently.

A...

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Quiet River

When the morning's flight

lifts the darkened blind,

and slows the speed of time,

be ready in your heart and mind

with gratitude, as you drift

on a sweet and quiet river,

lined by silent watchers;

remember their gifts, and the jewels

                           of the givers,

For that light is sure to glow

fierce and steady in your memory -

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