The colours that bleed into one

The rainbow becomes white light

All we love we long for and fight with

pages torn, we try to forgive

and live on.

The anger we once held

falls away in the cold light of day

We preach to the pavements

that people walk on,

they point the way

chalk quotations written on and on

can’t you tell?

Love is the only sanity

the only truth we lean upon.

Hope bends like a trees branches

but the light on the river still dances

we flow like water

whether sons or daughters

we catch the light that’s brought us here

pigeon toed we may walk

The road the pavement goes on

Serenaded by destiny’s song

we are the children of the roads

we walk.

But for every rainbow

There is a price

living each day as it comes

and fighting to not be numb

but when all is said done

We are our shades

the river water the blades of grass

heaven has always been here no need to ask

grab my hand feel it’s warmth

in the chill cold air

I know you care

when you clasp my hand in yours

I know life the great teacher will settle the scores

and for all it’s flaws

it still has the power to open jaws.

I am your gift

Gifted to you

not in the greatest wrapping paper

but I am person you can savour

not aesthetically pleasing always to the eye

but to you I would never lie

I speak the truth

I can make you smile

all the while

you can’t buy me from any supermarket aisle

I am your gift

you can’t find me under a tree

I am too big

I am messy but no stig of the dump

I work hard for you walking in trainers my pumps

I am your gift

remember me when your having a bad day

I will come round and lighten your sadness as much as I can, ok?

for I am a friend the greatest gift of all

is when you and I rise and walk tall.

Grumpa (about a Grumpy Grandfather)

Grumpa

Sitting in your old arm chair,

With a devil may care,

Attitude.

Talking about the ingratitude

Of youth.

Watching TV,

Eating microwaveable meals,

Grumpa,

I still love you,

I remember the times when I was young,

and you helped me,

when I was stung,

by a wasp,

or fell over.

Life is hard,

it makes you,

grumpy and 

lonely,

Please think of the things you’ve shown me,

Rather than talking about the things that make you despair

I know behind the passive aggression you still care,

I know I sometimes take the Mick,

But really Grumpa,

I can see all your tricks,

There is still, to my surprise,

magic behind those eyes,

And bedtime stories waiting to be read.

Grumpa, 

Don’t lose the thread 

We all need a grandfather like you,

For you have all the experience,

You will know what to do!