It is a strange proximity.

It is a strange proximity.

To sit by a bed

Without chance to rest

And behold a pastoral scene,

With flowering cherry

Daffodils and tulip shoots

Competing for attention

With a bouncing Robin

And the scamper of

Ravenous squirrels,

Whilst through a

Sun kissed break

In the pine and beech

An enigmatic variation,

To catch sight of a truck

On the trunk road,

Going who knows where

With a far too heavy load

Bringing life’s incongruities

All too quickly home.

She turns,

Smiling with her eyes,

Always the best kind,

Come away with me.

Even now

It is an easy drift

To catch her meaning

As it floats between us,

The attachment

Always strong.

We lie together

In thought as well as deed,

Not a word is said

As the world rolls by,

With its urban stench

Just hanging

In the overlook

Of this rural closeted,

Cascading flowery idyll.

Where we two remain,

Confined but steadfast

In our resolve,

To escape

This all too briefly

Blooming solace

And find a place

Among the stars.