The sound of lightning
the smell of rain
someone jumps at the crash
but ignores the flash
Trudging through the carpark
head throbbing with pressure
water running down my back
jacket waterproof no more
The natural fireworks impress
but I am not cowed at all
enjoying the storm
feeling alive
Dear Mr, Miss, Ms or Mrs
I’m replying to your advert for someone to do the dishes
For as long as I can remember I feel it’s been my fate
To hold a sponge in one hand, and in the other, a plate
You don’t remember me, do you?
Where do I fit into your unreliable memory?
Even if you wrote me down in your diary
What page am I on?
Which of your thousands of photographs recorded me?
You don’t know, do you?
Whiz whiz
How many left?
Caught on the stairs again
Trapped in the watery stare
‘Morning Bill’
His dog looks up
With a woeful weeping glare
_______________
How the stairs have changed
Modernisation for another age
_______________
Caught on the stairs again
Trapped in the watery stare
‘Morning Harry’
My dog looks up
With a woeful weeping glare
I woke one morning and couldn’t get out of bed
Eventually I did, I went through the motions
The darkness was deep
I kept people at a distance
Am I still too close?
The sound of a child singing took my attention
The words weren’t clear but the melody was soothing
After a while, I realised the singing had stopped
The melody played
again
and
again
Red paint spattered the butcher’s apron
His tightly stretched canvas was visibly distressed
An unearthly knell resounded across the meadow
Prospective buyers elbowed for the spoils of breakfast
Washing a dish
Is anything but bliss
And shirts to iron
Bars of a cell
Housework is hell
Beautiful rain has been falling all night
The temperature is back to normal for this time of year
For days and nights snow had fallen and frozen
Paths were cleared and gritted
To be covered and recovered
A picturesque vista
This morning
I open the curtains
The snow and ice have gone
The street looks tired with potholes and puddles
A trail of grit marks a pathway to the primary school
Where cigarette buts crowd the entrance
Walk
In the late morning rain we went for a nostalgic walk around our old haunts
We both moved here from Glasgow in the early ’70s
Cumbernauld was full of hope
A new way of living
In the evening
We remembered
We reflected
We wondered
I’ve been on this journey forever
having left the station at nineteen seventy-two
it feels like a lifetime ago
moving at a constant one second per second
so they say
I’m not convinced
I’m sure I feel us gently accelerating
the child sitting next to me disagrees
my memories of the departure are hazy
I forget where I am sometimes
the landscape changes
but remains the same
we all have the same destination
everyone I’ve spoken to
but confusingly we don’t agree on the time of arrival
hers is later
his is sooner
it has been a tiring journey
sitting here what feels like my whole life
my body is starting to ache
I will be glad to reach the destination
I need the rest
slippery pavement 