Dirty Snow

It was Christmas Eve.  The grey of London had turned to pearly white.  Barnaby trudged his way through the glimmering city.  Children were throwing snow balls at each other.  Housekeepers swept their doorsteps.  The bakery was open early.

Barnaby breathed in the sparkling ice air, and turned up his winter coat.  In his hand he held a bouquet of lush red flowers.  They were magnificent.  He hoped she liked them.  So many thoughts were running through his head.  His heart was beating fast.

Almost there.  More than a little bit early.

Ahead a door opened.  A slender girl with auburn hair led a tall young-man into the street.

She planted a kiss on his lips.

She waved good bye.

She watched him leave.

And then she went inside.

That morning a bouquet of roses lay abandoned on a lonely street corner.  A boy called Barnaby made his way home through the dirty snow.


Love Mirage

Strapped for cash, job a joke, you can’t afford the gym, or a nice new coat.  So she play’s with you.  So she toy’s with you, because she knows that when she smiles… it all’s okay, and that you’d be lost if she went away.

Sooner or later, she goes away.

And so you figure, why hit the highs to fall so low?  Better to live by the grey than to risk Love’s Mirage.

Where the Wild Things Are

This looks great…


They’re in your head you know.  They’re your friends, your parents, you’re mentors.  You read about them in the papers.  You see them on TV.  There’re the ones who tell you who you are, and what you should be.  There’re the ones who say ‘listen to us’.  They’re the ones who look you up and down, pat you on the back, and grin.

‘I don’t think so’, they say.

Things are tough, when you’re not part of the ‘they’.