jeune et jolie
Regular poem for everyone
I was young once but never
beautiful in the way a spring
day can be, sparse bands of
cloud in an endless stretch
of blues in all directions, up
and over my head and behind
where my eyes can’t see I
know the blues continue from
the warmth and prickle of
sunshine on my necks nape.
Past the green fields where
little lambs gambol and their
parents gamble with a hawk
every morning if they aren’t
the first to wake, past the
emerald barrier there is blue
darker and deeper than the
blue of the birds home, darker
than the worst thoughts of winter
I don’t fear many everythings
but there are deep things beneath
that keep me from sleep and I
don’t spend long looking at the water
for fear of drowning in what may be.
So instead I turn my eyes to greenfield
and little lambs that play together cheerily,
jeune et jolie and pure and free and leaping
joyously like you thought your life would be
I count the lambs, then count the sheep
and leant against the wall I fall asleep
Dream of
Spring days reach out towards heat we await
spindly fingers now lush and living and little
buds bloom into big leaves and trees become
canopies dappling the roads below in dancing
shadows and soft golden light, better days
ahead of us, better days ahead better days ahead
of us
Awake and already I’m in a better day and ready to
dream of better still.




The ‘gambol’ and ‘gamble’ wordplay was too good
favourite from my favourite!!