A pile of stones in the garden.
Some large others small.
Piled against the wall.
I don’t know how long they have been there.
In winter they were covered in snow.
When spring comes thought they will have to go.
But now its spring.
Amongst the stones daffodils bloom.
Winters gloom is gone.
So, there they can stay.
Till another day.
I think they will still be there when snow comes again.
They are just a pile of stone I know.
But they are here to stay.
Till when, who knows.
Just a pile of stones.

When I was born I saw my double
Never thought about much trouble

Entered school feeling happy to start
To find that we were always apart

Every year we were often compared
Rarely a day when we were spared

Every test was under review
Checking each score without due

Who was the better sport
Every time on the court

Who was fatter
Did it matter

Always viewed as a pair
In every move without a care

Now we are old and can say
That we are not the same today

Writers folly could have thrown me into decline
Shaking my whims out of my mind
As I slide down a banister of foolish delight
Think "I would not be sliding if my head was on right"

Would have froze with my foes as I faced all their might
Should have ghastly gone fourth writing tales of trite fright
Macabre apparitions watching out for whats getting me
Would have locked away my wonder wishing I could just let it be

The wolf lies rotting,
of its own volition
On a bed of past lives
afraid of changing, afraid of knives
Perhaps we're meant to be this way;
Sick, putrid. Disgusting.
Pitiful crying that leads to naught
And maybe you want to be this way.
melting through the day, slipping
further and further away
Poor thing.
Miserable dog.
You sing, only for no one to hear
But you're still here.
still breathing, just as
the sun still shines through your window
And though it hurts,