Morning in the camper van

Sausage rolls and
no guilt for breakfast.
Clean your teeth in red wine,
let your hair dry in the wind.

Tanned skin,
the smell of summer.
Feet up on the dashboard,
pastel pink toenails against
a cornflower sky.

Endless possibilities
tucked tight
in the glove box.

Advertisements

A three day week

I can’t help feeling rather excited.
It’s drifting into reach.
Only one more day at silly old work
Until we’re on the beach.

I’m praying to the god of the weather
Please don’t make it rain…
But even if it’s pouring down
There’ll be no office pain.

No sitting in boring meetings,
No skirts and smart high heels.
Just acres of sea and sand and sky
And bbqs for meals.

No smoggy and sooty pollution,
No horrible commute,
Simply us and the van and the open road
And a surfboard in the boot.

So hurry up Thursday morning!
We want to get away!
Enjoy life in the slower lane,
On our summer holiday…..

A real page-turner

Read.
Hungrily, voraciously. 
Eat books for breakfast.
Lunch. Dinner.
Snack on stories.

Read.
The truth, the tales.
Fact or fiction.
Ingredients on the back
of the cereal pack.

Read.
Lists, lines,
perfectly printed.
Three year old magazines
at the doctors.

Read.
Novel, novellas,
Prose and poetry.
The back of a
commuters newspaper.

Read.
Read more.
A wise man once said
it opens many doors –
for words are learning,
and isn’t that what life’s for?

Facing the music

Always a
step off
the beat,
Catching
the downstroke.
You stick
with your rhythm,
Compose
your life’s tempo.
In your mind
you’re a symphony,
An orchestral
sum of your parts.

Your score is written.

This
is as good
as it gets.

But always you’re searching.

Looking for harmony,
With your life lived
in B minor.