A Frozen Flower Thaws
Delicate flower, you have been growing alone for too long.
The soil round your feet was frozen by winter,
Your petals were brittle, their colour near gone.
Home Is Where
These bricks, this stone... this isn't my home.
The fire is here, and faces I know,
I live here, can't sleep here, it's here that I've grown,
But absent is heart: this isn't my home.
Our eyes are deep in conversation,
Our mouths say not a word.
We each know what the other means,
Though voices lie unheard.
With dragging feet,
And heavy heart,
I turn to leave
(The hardest part)
Of These Things I Am Sure
I do not love you by comparison.
It isn't borne of desperation, pride, or pain.
I do not need you for counsel, release.
I do not dream of you to alter you or your words.
No music, no distraction,
Just a step, a step, again replayed
Through lanes I could walk down blinded.
Familiar is this solitary tread,