espresso

I don’t understand
where the water goes, you said
as you interrogated
the waste pipe plumbing
to the sink at music class.
Your three year old stature
convenient for inspection.

A quizzical look on your face
a mirror of images
in the emotions book
we had read and practised
years before:
happy, sad, confused…
And my heart exploded
with an electric shock
of love
which coursed through me.

An espresso shot
to a decaf soya latte self.

old friends 

It’s been a score of years
yet more
since we met.
First netball court foes
then school class allies
heartaches and discos
slack through the Uni years
reunited through
wedding weekends away.
And now
babies’ later
I see you afresh
sitting on tiny chair
conversing with my son
as the centre of his
three year old world.
He’s beaming
and so is my heart.

Inspired by EW chatting with my son

shower

I’m staring absently
in the shower
as the water
cascades down
over and over. 

The droplets
splash the bathtub
in a of pattern
of sparkling
excitement
again and again. 

They remind me
of a moonlit beach
dancing on a
moonlit beach
from long ago. 

A memory
almost forgotten. 

Inspired by: another long night