My wife puts on classical music for the dogs
when she leaves, hoping it will help them
forgive her absence while she is away.

Sometimes she doesn’t do this for them;
when they pee in the house, for instance.
Though her anger about this sort of thing is brief.

Let me explain:

When she comes through the door
their tails are always furiously wagging,
the universal sign of canine acquittal,
letting her know they hold no grievances.

I stare at the other side, dancing in painful enjoyment,
Where shadows linger, embracing a life now devoid of deployment.

In the clutches of addiction, a soul slowly withers away,
A tragic partnership with death, a relentless, haunting company

Needles whispering romises, a fleeting escape from despair,
Yet, each puncture deepens the depth of an endless, vacant stare.

Short lived fun marks the decay of the soul's core,
A symphony of sorrow, addiction's unrelenting uproar.

The beaked feathers of symphony filled
the air. Strings of lights came down to stare
The bone finger branches filled no spaces

The wheel of tangerine orange fire burst
Above the eternal punching velvet sky
The sea of swaying mixed flowers

Swayed like a chorus of children
Singing together. An aroma of
Of blueberry and lemon silk grass

A stream silver sheen glistening
a trinklet quiet sound making
zen tranquility just listening

Obeying the trout fish swishing

ATTRACTOR

After all this time, and still no answer
I must ask the question why
I don’t consider myself a chancer
With letters sent and no reply

It’s confusion whilst never knowing
And a cold winter wind is blowing
But keeping warm all the while
As I recall that special smile

But can she ever know I’m waiting
It’s a serious question if one can cope
Yet all’s not lost, as still there’s hope
There’s pleasure in anticipating

But there is one thing never to miss
The genuine opportunity for a kiss