A Close Shave

A close shave.

This week I didn't win the Lotto again
Well, phew, that was a close thing.
I don't have to work on buying and moving
Don't have to choose which cruise to use
Or ring up my ex and go ha ha ha ha ha...

That Omaze house in Devon went to another
I'd have been lost there and far from all friends
Cider with Rosie is all very well
But hey I'm a bitter man myself...
In fact i remember my ex saying just that .


Not going to the monthly meeting of the West Surrey cynical negativists and ping-pong society tonight
I mean - really - why bother?
Anyway - I'm rubbish at ping-pong.
And their table is broken. Life, eh?

Remembering Mrs. Gray

Sometimes one thing triggers a memory 

A thin tripwire that triggers an explosion 

A baguette, or red wine, Boston... 

And Black 

Black will never be funerals and death .

Black is a midriff held sleekly tight 

Lace ending on pale chest or thigh 

An exotic bird that unfurls black wings 

To swoop and soar and dive 

Exhilarating and wonderful. 

But I don't have space for the bird to fly 

I need to shut it away 

In the cage of memory, wings folded 

Black becomes just a colour again 

And reality is... Gray.