Summer Love

We are in the
sunshine of our days.

Like thistledown
you lie beside me.



We glide towards one another with the
smooth flow of curtains meeting on a track.
As our soft yielding sides touch,
we sway gently in unison,
then hang together still,
in peaceful relaxation.

The rough hands of expectation and convention
used to pull us judderingly together.
We bumped, collided, overlapped,
threatening to knock
our fragile end hooks off the tracks,
to hang there sad and drooping.

Joined, our beautiful patterns are unfurled
in all their glory.  Not many see them –
summer evenings are short for curtain-drawing,
but the nights of loving touching in the dark
breathe slowly for us in our quiet sharing.

Though hanging happily on our own,
apart we keep our folds well hidden.

Only together, meeting side by side,
are our inner selves exposed,
in one continuous, harmonising pattern.

Mellow we are,
your velvety edges caress mine.



It took us a long time.

He got what he always wanted,
living with me in a semi,
near bus stop and library.
Shed in the garden, private space,
linked to his motorbike workshop.
Wood-burner, comfy armchair,
long desk for architectural work,
overlooking my flower garden.

I got what I always wanted,
daily companionship,
easy intimacy,
stimulating conversation,
his spiritual philosophy.
(He did the reading, studying.)

Togetherness at home,
always learning, developing.

Shared parenting, grandparenting.

Wonderful holidays.

Individual and mutual, friends, interests.

We could have gone on much longer.


Weekly Visitor

Bopping to Van Morrison
good and loud,
chopping yellow
shiny courgettes on a white board,
sun streaming onto my just picked tomatoes,
Charlotte potatoes already bubbling.

Olive oil into big black pan,
gift from my daughter…..

And he is here!
Slipping silently into the room,
dropping his bag,
quick kiss,
and off he dances,
bendily, beautifully,
round my newly knocked-through living space,
in green needlecord shirt,
while I sway,
stir the veg.

Now I know the wood-burner will be lit.


New Love at 66

Lying in bed with you,
a rare day of togetherness
in our busy independent lives,
separate homes, families,
allotments, weekly activities.

Trying to capture the moment in words,
your “nurturing, relaxing, reassuring,
comfort, security, healing”
arced like a brilliant rainbow
over my spreading English landscape,

dropped like a beautifully curved,
rising crescendo,
over my solid, deep, two-note chord,

“loving you”.



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