I will bring you lemon sorbet
bricks of solid gold
a dress of sunshine
the plastic handles from a girl's bicycle
fallen autumn leaves
cellophane-wrapped chocolates
a tube of oil paint
the no-parking lines from off the tarmac
the paper from my living room walls
the cover from Basho's Haiku
Colias croceus

~ ~ ~

Nearly Shot Now

The mystery advances
sunlight hollows

Traces of despair
Dappled Orchards
sweet fruit            dropped

Trace the current along Embankment
Ruts painted red on the walkway
Music of the city
old man
kicks a dream
tin can

All the while
from grand & impossible
down to petty satisfaction
you won't see
what you've lost

~ ~ ~