the way
his hair falls
for a moment
I forget
his age

the winter sun
enough to melt
a hard frost
why do useless attachments
last for a lifetime?

you tell me
all your news and that
you're happy now
in a tone of voice
I hardly recognise

on the telephone
we talk of
email
how easy it is
to hide behind words

tattered remnants
of something caught up
in the wire
the no-man's land
beyond caring

windscreen wipers
brush aside the evening rain
some things
that will never be
forgotten

I would have
given
anything
but you chose
freedom

a small shell
from another summer
spirals around
what used to be
a secret sanctuary

another day
has passed
without a word
I trim the dry fronds
from a boston fern

pale blossom
swirled by a chill wind
in the rose beds
the deeper red of summer
held tight within the bud

a flash
of lightning then
the long wait
for the cormorant
to resurface

having fallen
all that we can do is
hope
that we can
learn to fly

almost spring
a goldcrest restlessly
explores bare twigs

driving rain
one snowdrop leans
against another

a winter walk
the frozen footpath
ridged over roots

spring dusk —
the neighbour's vacuum cleaning
ends with a sigh

clear cold blue —
all the things I've wanted
but couldn't have

spring freshness —
a naked mannequin
in the ski-shop window

Mind the Gap

There's something
very wrong
with everything,
some cosmic equivalent
of a missed connection
at Cardiff Central,
or a derailment
outside Crewe,
a passing of ships
in the night,
captains staring
intently
the other way.
You stretched out
your hand
for the shell
just as it was taken,
by the tide,
beyond your grasp
and nothing
in the world can fill
the gap.

Lost Property

you must have
left it with me
by mistake
maybe you put it down
to pick up
your coffee cup
many years ago
when we were younger
and less careful
we sometimes
let our paths cross
with those of strangers
as if
we didn't know
the dangers
I've tried not to
let myself think of it
as mine
but I've become
used to
having it around
it's grown a little faint
over all the years
I've kept it
just in case
one day you need
this hope

Mutus Liber

something in the turn
of his head seen from
a distance
in his eyes
before he speaks

catching
a sideways glimpse
of the winking out
even the stars
are mutable

before he said a word
I knew him, and do still
and always will
the way he raised his hand
as if to emphasise the point

the final stroke
of a church clock
echoing
things left
unspoken

conversations
lost in morning mist
but the unsaid things...
much older
than the hills

between the lines
something shimmers
like first light
on the pages
of an open book

words
I never said
to you
the song of a bird
in a bitter wind

for years now
he's been pretending
it's too late
to do the things
he should have done

dreamed of him
again last night
that man
whose face
I never see

a ring
around the moon
tonight
missing something that
was never mine

a few words
with a stranger passing
on this road
everyday precious things
are scattered in the wind

older now
I dream that you still
sing to me
and that I write
poems for you

its no use
asking them to stop
they're pitiless
trees in blossom
in the park

watching
the storm tossed trees
through glass
afraid to let myself go
where the wind would take me

looking out
of an old photograph
my younger self
gives me a coolly
disapproving stare

the accusation
in your voice as we exchange
polite evasions
the lingering bitter taste
of so many unsaid things

frost
on dry leaves
brittle with age
the gentlest touch
can break the skin

sun
on the sea between
dark clouds
the tiredness in your eyes
even as you smiled

the chain
that joins the white boat
to the sea
drawn to it but then we stand
uncertain on the margin

closing
the bedroom window
to keep out
the new coolness
I turn on the radio