. is it rags today?.

she said hello, smiled.                                                        i smiled back with no regret.


the books are left tied tightly.



woke up to see the shy pink. clouds.


we stood together working pushing rags through to make things neater. others searched the lines, the crossing, looking for reincarnations.                               we thought they were sheltering from the rain.


another day of vinegar soaked words. another play on keys, as we drift through           winter days.


curtains dragged across the gloom, early, yet while light lingers later,   we wander to the snowdrop drift, hear the last bird call.


give things to some one else, will they fall upon flesh, rip it, rearrange,    leave to sleep? maybe it were their rags.                                            or handle with care, small eggs hold with love, rearrange tenderly.



. it seems the work is cupboards. cabinet makers.



daily post




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