For A.W.

A feather pluck’d from her breast

Stays the heart that beats so fast.

Her shrill song cuts through the mist,

Sailor’s warning, lover’s wish.

Diving deep, she quells that fear;

Soul soother, lend her an ear.


The Keepsake

‘Mankind should be our business…

                    … but we seldom attend to it.’ Jacob Marley

I see my face

Reflected clear.

Red rosy cheeks

Stung by a tear.


So don’t forget

That fragile glass,

If pressed too hard

Shatters alas.


Fragments will fall

But can be caught.

Life is precious,

Spare it a thought!

Lost and Found

He keeps her soul sealed

In a small glass jar.

Up there, on that shelf.

Until she’s ready

To come take it back.


All that time searching,

Looking for something.

She didn’t know what.

Her body a husk,

A broke open shell.


Inside sat her heart,

Exposed and frozen.

No layers of warmth

To soothe, or protect,

‘Cause he took her soul.


Stole it, placed it,

In plain view, up there.

And then he watched her,

Aimlessly searching

For her heart’s desire.


Her soul? On that shelf?

Next to the spices,

molasses and spelt?

A proved recipe

To make her heart melt?


And he sat grinning,

Twiddling his thumbs.

That jar gathered dust.

The lid rusted fast.

Her soul grew weary.


But those specks of dust

Dancing in the light

Caused her head to turn,

Her heart to take flight.

Her soul. So light. Found!


Reaching for the jar

Drawn to her soul’s warmth,

She shivers, draws breath.

Oh that life, so cold.

Searing pain, bone deep.


She opens that jar,

Releases her soul.

It envelopes her,

Thaws her frozen heart,

Mends her broken shell.


No longer that husk,

Her life force gives back.

Soothes her, protects her.

And fully restored,

She plots a new course.