One Late New Year's Poem

Have you ever noticed how
around December time
the year becomes old, and
tatty around the edges.
It is written with reluctance.

It creeps around
hips creaking when it stands.
It drinks a dozen cups of coffee
each day of December,
to keep it going - just until the 31st.

The end of the year
is a hangover,
and there isn't a fry up big enough.
All it wants is to crawl into a photo album,
and sleep.

So when we put this year to bed
and we look towards the future,
we can remember the times
it ran and jumped
and cartwheeled in front of our eyes.
When the year was young.

We know each year,
must come to a close:
must make way for the next,
big, bold, sparkling Year.
But, for now, we shall put
this year to bed,
and head our letters
with new numbers.

This One's From Me

If trust is a gift,
I hope you've got the receipt.
In fact -
I hope it's a puzzle
with three of the pieces missing.
I hope it's a pair of stillettos
with no grip
that you wear every morning it's icy out.
I hope it's the food you hate;
the song that makes you mad;
and a photo just before you sneeze.
If trust is a gift
I hope it's all of your hopes and dreams
made entirely of sand;
so you can watch as they cascade
to the floor
through your fingers.
I hope it's the book that could save your life;
with all of the pages stuck together.
I hope it's ten pounds short for the rent,
and torrential rain every year
on your birthday.
I hope it's your car breaking down half-way down the M40
during rush hour
and you don't have time
to pull onto the hard shoulder.
If trust is a gift
I hope it's second-hand and it smells funny.
I hope it's almost what you wanted
but not what you needed.
If trust is a gift
I hope it brings you back to my front door
so you can knock until your knuckles bleed
and your wrists are weak.
If trust is a gift I hope you can't take it out of the box
without a gut-renching guilt.
If trust is a gift I hope it's got a gift tag
saying, 'THIS ONE'S FROM ME'.

Afraid of the Dark

A twenty-something afraid of the dark

sets her own goals and falls short of the mark.

Seeking approval from the world around,

she's taking offense as the trees fall down.

Conversations with God

What makes us who we are?
We are the words we say.
And what about the things
we almost said, but didn’t?
Well they are who we almost were -
but weren’t.