Posted rather tentatively, a poetry :)
My effort this year is to stop being self-conscious as a writer. (I don't know precisely what that means, but I'll be damned if I let that stop me from posting it!) And so, an attempt at poems and their post-age. This was written in April, and it's now, what, August? So you can see how well that resolution is going. Feedback would be loved, appreciated, resented mildly, and yet, learnt from!
When you’re away
When you’re away,
I want to be in your thoughts.
In the laughter of a page,
In the whistle of trees as the wind plays,
In the particular blue of a flower or a breeze,
I want you to remember me
When you’re in a pool, gazing at pebbles intently,
Or in a room where the hush lives splendidly.
It’s not a lot;
I want you to always want to think of me.
Of course, I won’t be in your thoughts.
Your thoughts, free birds, will soar and fly,
Will want to skim clouds
And sip flowers for tea.
They’ll swim till they reach
The ink-blue sea.
And you may suddenly wonder
Who that dense blue reminds you of,
And you may ask yourself why.
But you won’t feel that inward twist,
That pang, that cry,
That mix of false memory
And very real desire.
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