Peasants

In the fields where humble peasants toil,

Amidst the soil, their hands in turmoil,

A noble pheasant takes to flight,

With colours bold, a splendid sight.

But do not let appearances deceive,

For in the heart, we all believe,

That worth is not defined by feathered grace,

But by the spirit in every face.

So let us not confuse the two,

For in each soul, a greatness true,

Whether peasant or pheasant, we all belong,

In the grand tapestry of life’s song.

Never missing a moment on the ride out to sleep, still on my way when dawn breaks.

Nothing is lost to the distance,

binding dreams have me coming back.

You’re reminding me of no-one,

it’s why I can’t look away,

Blue.

Tears no longer

relieve sadness,

mist clings together,

and they ask why?

Blue Leaves

Blue leaves tied to bare trees,

wind blows and the fall stops.

When all the thoughts hold you.

Dwelling in the heart that hides darkness of night from me.

“What could have traversed the desert, but a caravan.”

Let It Come

Stir the calm and let it come;

vapours and dreams,

dance on waves,

beat of gilded drums.

Powerful to powerless,

careless of care.

Loyalty to the disloyal,

in need of prayer.

Vultures on carcass,

coat worn threadbare.

Heartless in darkness,

in reach but never there.

Stir the calm and let it come;

vapours and dreams,

dance on waves,

myriad of tongues.

Walk barefooted and there’s the chance of a splinter.

Fourth,

maybe it’s the fifth.

This time,

I think it was Madrid.

I told you my favourite garden,

you told me of the

Lake Gardens sapling you had planted.

I declined your offer of a mint.