Micro-cosmic

Tuesday, 31 July 2007

Lemons squeezed on hair,
Pre Clapton Beauty Parlour,
For annual trim.

Tony rings from Wales;
I hear sea, sky and blue space,
Then feel trapped by sink.

So little sunshine,
But the fruits of summer glow,
Succulent, juicy.

Another meal found,
To satisfy hungry kids -
Sticky spaghetti.

Two profiles on bus;
Mirrored quirks, yet each unique,
The two I love most.

Words take me away,
From responsibilities,
To other landscapes.

Enjoying bus ride,
Pickle keenly inspects park,
From top-deck view point.

With terrier grip,
Damian acts the bull dog,
Pickle plays his bitch.

Standing at her door,
Crutches will tell the story -
Emotional fall.

Dexter caught in net,
Conversation turns to fish,
Sexy trout make 'sporn'.

Fox poo spread on floor,
Stuff waits to be tidied up,
Mop slides in between.

Emptying compost,
Becomes a heroic task,
Mastered on crutches.

Incapacity,
Sucks me into tragedy;
Blanket brings comfort.

Foot swells till skin tight,
Wrapped alternate with ice pack,
Ginger and cayenne.