We have to be able to adapt
otherwise, we'll get trapped
in a rut,
my gut instinct takes second place
to the benign face I show
when others think they know
better,

but surely
a rut's not a bad place to be?
just look at the cemetery.

I don’t fit you anymore
truth be told
you don’t fit me either
we are weird jigsaw pieces
at the edge of the puzzle
the ones you can’t quite work  out
where to put
for ages
then suddenly
out of the blue
you see it
that’s where they go
the puzzle complete!!

I dance every night
in vain

Tonight, she taught me the nature of healing summer rains
Whimsical descriptions of dancing in puddles, but
Metaphors only serve to drown her pain
Dry on the surface, swearing inside the drought sustains
But dew droplets in her eyes betray her restraint
The morning after, the storm remains

Little flower, bent at the stem
Oversaturated by the self-absorbed
Her waterlogged roots weighing her down, but
In fields of bloom they still look to you
See, the weak reach for the easily used green and blue tulip hues
But her yellow petals require strength to be pulled from the meadow