Flashing Blue

 Christmas emergency
 The blue tree flashes
 Bringing aid to the coffee swilling brigade
 Quietly accommodating a distant corner
 Where the clientele don’t sit
 A reminder that it is the simple things that bring the most joy
 I sit and watch it
 As the others moan and groan


In the dusk of years
Time settles about us.
The hurly burly of ragged lives
No longer a prerequisite,
We pause and take stock.
It is the breath held,
The final exhalation
That takes us to a place
Where they’re no longer required.
Let us not forget:
Dusk follows day and aids the transition to night.

Bordering Shadows

 Through shadow and night,
 As light does battle with shade,
 I claw at the boundaries of life.
 It is on these borderlines that such struggles take place.
 But there is little to distinguish between these two worlds of variant greys.
 There is no definition where definition is sought.
 And so the traveller walks the limbo line in his own personal purgatory.
 Mine is no different to any other’s,
 Or so I imagine.
 But the exquisite solitude is unmistakably my own.