The port city and it’s secrets, The Sicilians drapes hung in the… The ghosts beyond the limestone wa… The sad holy brush of James Walsh… The sanctity of the unknown,

I remember youth and senses, the smell and touch. Fascinated by breathing, in and out. Sunday walks,

Etched, in the valleys of the moon, staring from or to. Blazing the night, The autumn heat returns,

A drink. A sip. I sip you and you sink me. The empty bottle, is the saddest sight.

She reminded me of women, I used to see as a child, at family gatherings. Tired, not quite steady,

Soon as the sun, as life becomes d… I flow with a heart, all the worst… No more can I mourn, myself as I… It’s bright and it’s sad, but toda… like the years gone before, or the…

There’s not enough time, Not for seeing the world, no no But feeling alive, To hold your friend when they weep… For being in a hole,

The doubt of spring, makes winter warm, when all is cold is now gone, The sparkle of night, and the seasons change,

She blazes and burns a beautiful m… grabs life’s hand and drags it wit… Never too close, to love it wholly, Yet close enough,

You have to, jump in with the sharks. They won’t eat you, unless you let them. You dodge and dive,

My father talked often, of what went wrong, who his father was, Who he is as a father, Long drawn out conversations,

Wake to the sun on fire, a wandering wisp of a dream, In it’s forgotten desire, a candle… as a sonnet sings sentiment as bri… What is a plum situation,