November once more

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I wonder what he thinks about when he is sitting at the airport waiting to board a much delayed flight to somewhere …. I don’t think he thinks about me at all … and how do I know that? Because he’s been traveling a lot and my phone lies still… covered in dust behind the unruly mop of dried roses …. Where there was a heartbeat now the pulse murmurs in a steady beat just enuff to take in the April sun and wish it was November once more

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Rooftop by the stars

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If it ever does go down I’d like to call them zulay and carmen and juno. I have so much vested in fate and a lil bit of that in me too…. Coz I’d like to believe that everyone deserves a fairy tale of their very own. Mine I’d like to call it the rooftop by the stars

Sunsets coffee & donuts

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Watching the moon cruise along on a late windy evening
My balcony a freshly brewed pot of tea
The still of the morning fresh
Running bare feet in the rain
Squeezing lil old ladies
Smiling at the guy seated across a table to the north east
Lil baby holding onto my finger with a determined grasp
Finding an inane t shirt and wondering what Ralph will make of it
Being hugged like a tomorrow won’t be coming anytime soon
Catching a reflection of myself in the water
Finding a picture of you now forgotten but never forgiven
Sunflowers coffee n donuts

Frangipani

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Set you free and wait no more but hope? what does one do with that? One dims the light and focuses on the butterflies …. The flight of a white dove ….. Divinity in countless nameless stars and the sweet smell of frangipani …. And yet it’s back again knocking on the door …. Hope and all it’s cousins wanting a cup of tea… English breakfast I should hope so?

Broken jug

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Dappled sunshine a park bench a semi broken heart that still ticks at every odd tock the makings of a smile wind blown hair streaked gold by a fierce summer sun now retreated somewhere a broken jug with the last of the daisies an upturned book it’s pages much thumbed a snooty teapot now in a sulk and eyes that bear remembrance of not so long agos

Siesta

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Spanish bulls …. well traversed lanes ….. plenty of sunshine and sunflowers …. The early beginnings of a spiritual journey and the eternal quest of if not here then where and when …