Beware of the fiction

I’d wear green lace

And sway like a stoned

Ballerina

I think I’ll make another cup of tea

What was I thinking?

Yellow with elements of grey

Might you maybe,

Bend and snap,

At a worm, or a gnat,

Or at something like that?

Be like a bee.

Just bumble.

Some angry birds are kind birds too,

They just need more beak stroking.

That blubber cupboard needs to go,

This battle is my Jericho!

The mare and donkey who live next door

Prance through daisies like Valegro!

Sometimes stones get in our shoes

Have faith in the fuzzies;

Bear with me while I

Make myself

Useful

May I offer you a giggle? A chuckle? A smile?

A memory

A tiny me

So silly

You and me

LISTENING

Know that I am simply listening

To invisible people talking to me

Pulling faces at me

Making funny gestures in front of me

These days he loiters

In Lounge Trousers.

How many little girls did he stalk between rails of clothing?

Elsewhere?

His shy smile, his skin like a perfect summer-beach.

Sunblonde hair.

Wind-mussed curls

Taut with seasalt.

Now I play catch up

Running with wide-eyed wonder

I know it’s mean to let it rip,

But my ex-husband was quite a drip.

Not in the way you might suppose,

His looks were good, he wore nice clothes.