I have no roots –

only memories.

Present becomes past before my eyes

Life is lived, recorded there, somehow,

More or less imperfectly inscribed

Within my head, thus stored behind my brow.

These things exist for me, just in my mind,

For if I try to seek them out again

There’s only ever something new to find:

Nothing in the stillness can remain.

I have no root...

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This morning’s glorious golden hour

On this day, leaves me cold.

The sweet dawn chorus lingers on

No joys to me unfold.

No light or beauty penetrates

The fog within my head.

Become so numb, I can but wait

In longing, for my bed.

For National Poetry Month 3rd April 2019 – prompt from IG @tristameer “use the word ‘golden’ in a poem”.

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Stay up until all hours with work stuff,

Then wonder why the kids act at their worst,

Insist they play alone when you feel rough,

Then wonder which will throw a tantrum first.

You promise something then you make them wait,

Then wonder why they give you endless grief,

Sling insults when the school run’s running late,

Then wonder why they’re lacking self-belief.

Rec...

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