Beyond your time.

Don’t look to me for gratitude.
Don’t be expecting quiet applause.
I am tired and it’s beyond your time.
My position has its cause.
I will sit here for a moment,
And I refuse to accept shame.
I am tired and it’s beyond your time.
This life is not a game.

Her life.

Back inside her box,
Crunching on the shells,
Whispering silent words.
Are they prayers, are they spells?
Tension in her stomach,
Although she loves this place,
Caused by second guessing.
She is better when there’s space.
She cares.   She always cares,
But that is not the cause.
Considering your mood first,
Puts her life on pause.

Not quite.

When you feel the difference,
It raises you a stack.  
You enjoy the time, the moments,
But you can’t take the knowledge back.
You can’t ignore it, cannot hide it.
You saw it and you’re aware,
But when there’s nothing you can do with it.
Its not quite time to share.

Still waters.

When what the day tells you,
Is you need to work on yourself.
You need to improve,
It’ll be good for your health.
You need to improve,
To do your best for her.
She needs the still waters,
And not the stir.

The mound.

That is where you find yourself,
Or so some of them say.
When you have to remove yourself,
From your normal day.
Glimpses, perhaps glimpses.
I certainly wasn’t found,
But like a meerkat in a desert,
I think I made it to the mound.

That start.

You are my present.
You are my gift.
My past? Just memories,
Through which I sift.
You are my centre,
Bearing deep to the core.
I will keep on trying,
Just like I swore.
You are my reason.
You own my heart,
But I need space in there too,
And tomorrow’s that start.

Your rebirth.

You know it says it all.
Action louder than word.
Behaviour so clear,
It demands to be heard.
When you know your place.
When they put value on your worth,
You give a wry little smile,
And prepare for your re-birth.