My head and my heart
Are usually at war
My head wins the first round
And my heart
Settles in for a long
campaign of insurgence.

As I grow older
I see shades of grey.
Black and white disappearing.
Right and wrong?
Largely gone.
There are gradients,
with space there
for compassion.

If making mistakes
Is part of growth
My mistakes
Are certainly helping me grow.

The thing that hurt most
was no touch,
no talk, no intimacy.
Or acknowledgement of my pain.
That coloured my everything grey,
and made my efforts feel futile.
Made our life seem fake.
Pretend.
You settled into a life
of grey subsistence.
When I wanted
all the colours.

I took a walk this morning
in the cooler air
before the hot summer day
kicked in.

Seeking peace
and finding some today.
Surrounded by butterflies,
beautiful golden cloud,
reminder of the joy of life.

Startling a lizard,
chirping birds,
hearing the kookaburra call.
Kangaroo and joey
resting in the shade.

Golden butterfly
waiting on my front door.
Wings flapping a slow rhythm
like a beating heart,
beating for me.