Every time I see you I become less honest.
With so much life between one visit and the next,
Had I not rather flatter, than fluster you with candour?
No, I refuse.
I go for less polite and slightly grating,
And speak my mind uncensored, as before.
More to the point than pleasantries.
So when I see you next and say
“What awful perfume!” and
“What dreadful hair!” you understand
I mean to say
I love you still.
© jsmorgane (April 09)
Waiting for
Empty frames
to fill with laughing faces.
Frozen figures
to move into motion.
Necks on shelves
to remain lifeless.
Sensing fingers
to pause on door handles.
Stubborn hairlines
to retire on dusty pillows.
Fascinated noses
to sniff the unaired hall.
Delicate dancers
to stand up with me.
Black hats
to progress across the stage,
to move from head to head,
dance away and disappear.
Waiting for you
to wear my black hat again.
You do, in the picture,
Fading.
© jsmorgane (Jan 04)
I’ve gone
Missing
Out on life
Obedient observer
I split my mind
Working out the day
Running away
With my thoughts
As carry-on
To a place
Where I’m not
Missing you
© jsmorgane (Valentine’s Day)
