The Stage Play

The past is a stage play all mixed up Some scenes are transfixed under spotlights Playing and replaying The drama and the trauma on endless loop Others are dim, moving occasionally, sluggishly They seem nicer but a lot harder to see And some are in the dark, unknown and unremembered We are the stage managers…

The Remains of the Past

It sits beside a lonely track That winds its way, under blossom trees Toward remembered places But this, this is long forgotten Tiles on the roof cracked and falling Stone walls askew Wooden door leaning from its hinges Thickets half grown over On their way to reclaiming the cottage For nature Ease open the sagging…