Untitled (Brighton 2014)

Slow the soft swell
of summer surf
shudders as it collapses,
spent.
Like me, as I think
too much of you
as we, stumble.
As the soft foam fades
a memory:
had it been as I had thought.
I breathe in
as a wave draws back:
and wait.

05/04/2014 Brighton

Awethu

The tender twang
of summer red dust
is fading
like heat seeping from a stone;
Highveld-evening alone.

When the damp and dreary
darkness doubts the life
returning,
slowly, so slowly the tender tingle
of paradise lost.

I had though me bare,
the empty highland howl
of wind
forlorn the thought I’d had
that I could no longer care.

23/12/2013, London St. Pancras