She lay there prone on the sidewalk
Seen her there before days nigh
Surreptiously begging
Except when the cops went by
Then she would merely be idle
Still alert but with closed eyes
Ready to tell her story
Fibs told by her artful eyes
But this time it was different
Paving blood told of a hitch
Gone to meet the ferry man
Somebody wanted her pitch
Image found at www.projectbivouac.org.uk
Perhaps she would sleep now
Was there when she was born
And helping the midwife
Now we are on our own
Me listening each night
It was blowing a gale
Twigs slapping on the glass
Wife now sound asleep
Breathing quite steadily
Who says dad's sleep right through?
Baby daughter whimpers
Please don't cry I whisper
But she is unsettled
Tiny hand reaches though crib
With its pink wooden rails
Is she needing a feed?
Quietly I get up
Rocking her gently in hope
But now she wants to play
Coos and murmurs at me
Carefully I lift her up
Take her to the lounge room
It's halfway through the night
She's happy to play now
Gurgling her own sweet words
Crisp cold of next day's dawn
Wife finds me nursing babe
Now sleeping in my arms
And I ache all over
Dark bags beneath my eyes
"Been up long?" she enquires
Smiling happily now
"I'll get a cup of tea"
She looks so beautiful
So glad it is Saturday
Image found at www.huffingtonpost.com
This poem is one I have rewritten from an earlier one and seems to fit the prompt
We watched from our cave shelter
Where we had taken refuge
The heavy rain had now ceased
Easing to a thin drizzle
The old mountain ash trees sighed
Born hundreds of years ago
Their origins time forgot
Seemed to shake off the water
A few limbs had snapped off now
As sun radiates its warmth
And the forest birds called again
Their singing rings in our ears
To lift our spirits once more
Soaked to the skin, homeward bound
What stories we would now tell
Trapped in the Australian bush
Image found at www.australiangeographic.com.au
Just Jim was his name
He was old and thin
And his gaze told of better days
Wandered by himself
Scorning lifts in cars
Trudging the road was life for him
I saw him once
In a clover field
Watching the clouds drift slowly by
Then by running stream
Did ease his parched thirst
In August's month of flaring sun
Tiny was his footprint
Broad his winsome smile
In sand dunes or the melting snow
He laughed with such joy
Midst some milkweed plants
Then thick with Monarch butterflies
He loved this wild world
And saw more than most
Happy no doubt to perish there
Image found at wwhw.sciencemag.org
Life is like a book
Hopes for a happy ending
Then lay down to sleep
Perhaps one last kiss
From the person we'd most miss
Who would surely weep
Cry not for me dear
As on my journey I go
In the Earth full deep
Image found at www.newhealthadvisor.com
I can remember long ago
When news was a precious thing
It informed us what was new
Not just photos of stars in bling
Editors views were near the front
Headlines were important too
Now I search for everything
With adverts screaming at you
I think back to former times
Each word was important news
But now a paper's useful job
Is a place where I clean my shoes
Image found at www.designmum.com
I loved everything about her
For that is the way it goes
The tilt of her pretty nose
The way she wiggled her toes
The seductive look in her eyes
When I touched her, those sighs
Always tilting her sweet head
An urgent plea but unsaid
Like an invitation to bed
I loved everything about her
Image found at www.pixabay.com
