Salt

She made breakfast and wondered, quiet at the table

Who swept away the salt spilt yesterday?

And did they remember

To toss a little

Over their left shoulder?

Losing You(th)

Youth had left her like a lover before dawn

Nary a rustle or the chink of a buckle

Loose

She is left with its scent

And its silence

And oh!

The memory

Sunny

Sunny was a very fat canary

He loved pound cake and all things dairy

The wild birds would gather and chirp in mock

But Sunny didn't care for that cliquey flock

On his sturdy perch he would sit all day

The odd little chirp from his breast would stray

So began a diet, strictly apples and seed

But Sunny's fussy palette over-ruled his greed

His stubbornness however, proved far more effective
Regardless of how, we had reached our objective

From his golden throat sprouts a brand new song

The wild birds struggled to sing along

So nimble was he, hopping to and fro

Too busy was he putting on a show

Too proud to stop for a snack and a nibble

I offered his favourites and the very best kibble

By the following 'noon his song grew weak

By the next morn' there was barely a squeak

I offered some cake but he couldn't be swayed

His glossy black eyes began to fade

I cradled him close and without protest

I watched it sink - his bony breast

His eyes exposed at half the mast

I smile when I think of his jolly past

I lay him down his shaggy plume

And bury him where the dafodils bloom

And every springtime when they sprout

A sunny yellow song they softly shout

One too Many

The walls have cracks

and dustballs drift across the floor like sailboats

on a glassy lake

But there is life here

In a pot full of simmering promise

Boiling over on the stove

Slippers left peering out from under a sloppy bed skirt

Still warm

Some quiet groans and a whimper

And I feel most unwelcome

Shadows

The warmest shadows

exist only

beneath my coat

And with your body

closer

We'll cast more warm and dark shadows

Casuarina Casualty

Beneath the Casuarina tree

The grass is sparse and the earth dusty

It's not a place I care to rest my body

Poor Casuarina with his tired canopy

He seems wearier than me

A Little Less of Me

I don't like the browns of Autumn

I don't like the greys in her skies

I don't like the cold in her breezes

Stinging my watery eyes

I'll put on my shoes and start walking

I'll take a bottle and turn up a song

Quenching my thirst and my thirsty heart

Looking for a place to belong

My body it moves in circles

My head in the straightest line

In a while I'll be back where I started

With a little less of me every time

Legacy

She's got a flabby belly

and her tits tend to sag

But her wit's intact

even for an old bag

Her bladder's weak

And her temper - short

You'd never know it

but she was once a good sort

Her teeth are false

and her hair is thinning

She's got arthritis

and Dementia's beginning

her ears are still good

her advice is sound

she's got no regrets

and when she's no longer around

Her picture will sit

on her daughter's shelf

Taken when her mother

was not much older than herself

She'll teach her own daughters

What her mother taught her

She'll tell them all about that world

and the way things were

But they're not really listening

They can't relate

They're too impatient

They've too much on their plate

They're not concerned;

"That was before we were born!

We didn't know her,

do you expect us to mourn?"