Early morning light

 

The sun's early morning light breaks through the bedroom window

And brightens the dim room where I wake from my sleep

Her own  pictures on the walls now start grinning at me

Art was my wifes greatest hobby while I just love soccer

But now I have lost her and for the passion for that game too

For I have to navigate my life alone and am sad

I tend to delay even the smallest of tasks these days

Detouring and mumbling to myself "That job can wait"

It's clear I should do somethingbut what I just don't know

Clearly she did the leading as most good wives tend to do

So my life was a wreck until I found a note from her

Hidden in her bedside drawer with my name on it 

I enjoy my food

 

I am going round the bend. My head now aches more and more. So I leave my nest to visit the doctor at his practice. I read the paper while I wait. I'm not keen on medicines or needles just to say for that matter. I read my paper waiting until I am now called in. Just expecting a quick check "So what's the problem?' she asks as she rolls up my shirt sleeve. I feel her hands touch my flesh. She takes my blood pressure then pops thermometer in my mouth. Then pats her hammer on my knee...jJust to see my reaction. Then writes down all the figures. She says "That all looks okay. So what is you problem then? So I list all my ailments. She nods and then says"Simple!" "You have barely enough exercise" She was touching my waist. 

Humbly I knew currently

That I do enjoy my food

Shame

In nineteen sixtyseven

As a new Australian

An immigrant no less

Registered to vote

I was now entitled

To say whether

The Aboriginal people

Of this great land

Been here for about
Forty thousand years
Should be given the vote!
Was I proud?

Whiteys came scarcely
Two hundred years ago
“Terra Nullis” they said

Empty that is except for

A culture older than theirs

Art telling their history

Stories of their beliefs

A strict rule of law

Education for the young

Dancing to inspire

Songs to weep over

I was ashamed

Adelaide

 

 My heart beats for the city I love

 Where history mirrors days gone by   

 And birds fly overhead high in the sky                                                                               Eyeing shoppers in mall down below                    

 And Uni students eyes are all aglow                                                            

 Nearby parks, trees and squares all abound

 While tramcars still trundle round and round 

 The streets are straight they do not amuse

 Not like cities with roads that confuse

 Never was a city with such sound

 With a park surrounding all around

 Close easy walk inside to zoo there

 I could list many features to share

 Whether man or woman it's a treat

 So I'll not disurb you anymore

 Adelaide inside you will adore                                                                    

                                                                                                                                                               

My Masseur

A few years ago I used to visit a masseaur on my doctor's recommendation. My slow deterioration of age, fitness and aches had gotme into this situationso I agreed a little TLC would be appropriate. Tis could not have been further from the truth of course. It is one thing to have your body soothed into a relaxed state but quite another to have those aches and pains identified and kneaded into submission by a skilled practitioner. Parting with a few dollars to satisfy the sadistic pleasure of a torturer was a bitter pill to swallow except that for the rest of that day the treatment received I felt reall well. My body felt cleansed of a myiad ills, albeit temporary but it did give me hope my body would not crumble around me.

My return visits were not regular at first but with such well being It encouraged me to attend on a monthly basis. Soon the manipulation, the music in the background and our two way conversations about everything under the sun soon made the visits quite a delight.

I say two way conversations; thisd is not quite truw. While the masseur was a young woman half my age chatted abot many things my own utterances were few. My response may be an admonition at her finding a reclacitrant tendon or a chat about our families, pets or holidays! If she was silent I too might drift off as I melted under her care

This of course was my undoing. Recieving treatment I was stripped down to my jocks and not a stitch more. Can you imagine my chagrin when on the massage table been lowered she tapped my shoulder to say "You can get up now", finding that she had put my socks on me! I gasped "I forgot to take my socks off".

At this she replied with a laugh "No! You were fast asleep I put them on for you." It is one thing to have a masseur, quite another to have a dresser too!"

339 words

The taxi journey

                                

So lonely and sad I returned home

My wife had died in hospital

Leaving me to live a sad life

So I wiped the motes from my eyes

Feeling empty, frail and helpless

The taxi journey seemed endless

I spoke little on the ride back

My mind drifted back years ago

Both then young living a wild life

Then settling down with family

Seeking the days of happiness

The taxi driver delivered me home

I entered now our empty house

I choked with sorrow by myself

Then I lit a candle just for her

Photo found at www.pixabay.com

My first real girlfriend

 

In my last year at school there were times when we had freedom to study, play tennis or just use the library to write our essays. I then I found I was not the only one there but Joan, a very attractive who would also be there doing the same. So we chose that time to to chat in the library or in summer play tennis. She was very good at the game but that worried me little as I was more interested in dating her.

When school was over I often found her walking home and found she only lived a short walk from our house. Before long I was invited to meet her mother and if I stayed longer I'd meet her father too.

In summer time we also spent time walking to the town park where we'd find a secluded bench so we could kiss each other. I adored her and soon I was visiting her on weekends to and was invited to have meal with the family too.

As the school year progressed she said she needed to spend more time studying. I too was concerned as my exams were over and one of the schools governors had asked the headmaster if there was a student interested working in architecture. I was informed and took the job eagerly.

We kept in touch for many months but she too managed to get a job...but in London,so our friendship was shattered. This sudden change was the end of our romance. 

Fifty years later we met again on Facebook; both my wife and her husband had now died. I lived in Australia and she in Britain and we happily told of our lives far apart. Sadly just last year her daughter emailed me telling me she too had died.

Image found at www.pinterest.com