We are

We are slaves

Of our desires

Of our need

To be needed.

We are servants

Of the voice

Inside our heads

That makes us.

We are fools

And it’s paradise

Or maybe not

Would we know?

We are hopeful

Secretly even after

Our dearest dreams

Have been squashed.

And our gaze

Lingers another second

With bated breath

On the phone.

And we plead

Gently and wildly

For another reprieve

For another glimpse.

Knowing nothing good

Can come about

Close your eyes

For another bout.

My Place Under The Sun

Hither and thither the mind does run

On its quest to find a place under the sun.

Soak in the present, or wallow in the past

Perception and Memories abound, the expanse vast.

An uprising of emotion, quelled by rationale

The twinkle in her eyes; and words do fail.

My ambition takes flight, honey show me the money!

A heart-to-soul, a soul-to-heart, and all that baloney.

Work and Party, harder and hard – Who has the time?

The earthy breeze beckons, an early morning sublime.

Each step’s a struggle, and everyone a rat

A smile to a stranger, with a tip of my hat.

The laughter like a child’s, the frolic and the fun

Ah the glint of gold, my place under the sun!