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Wednesday, 10 July 2013


"All my life's a circle......" Harry Chapin

It could be a lake, a flat-earth water space
with edges to dare the intrepid to go beyond,
or for the meek to stop an inch before,
a circle, not pure and planed like curved wood
but a ragged, rough free-hand pencil drawing,
a corral of experiences and memories,
a place of commas, full-stops and capital letters,
pauses, shocks and new beginnings,

a lake where a ripple heads towards the circumference
not knowing if it will rebound or spill over
into someone else's space.

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