I've been enjoyed.
I've been admired.
But now my old skin has expired.

A scrape here, a burn there,
My layers peeled back, with marks left to bear. Some are deep, others wide, shallow and narrow. Blood vessels like lightning strikes paused in time. Tremors felt slowly, heart flashing quickly.

Granny Smith has gave me warmth, stewing in her old pot, sprinkle some cinnamon and dust some sugar. Place that dough like a giant bandaid, don't forget cream, it'll help ease the tender scream.

Revaluation of dreams, senses and perceiving not what it seems. Kilometre by kilometre, press by press, pull by pull.
Splitting boulders exploding cohesive dust, whirling, settled, quiet. Speckled skin, to be canvased, formed again.

Dark into light.

Aged, not in vain, life courses through new veins,
Veiled in verdant hues, reborn from ashen cues.
Twilight's end, dawn's eager blush,
Through the molten core, a whisper, a hush.

Nurtured by time's gentle hand,
Roots dig deep, stand, expand.
From wrinkled past, life's tender sprout,
Rises anew, silent shout.

Metamorphosis embraced within,
Cocoon breaks, beginnings begin.
My essence, once tethered, now takes flight,
Soaring on zephyrs, into the light.

Season's witness to regrowth's tale,
Saplings rise where once did fail.
Horizons broad, boundlessly unfurled,
Ineffably effable, renaissance to the world.

A quack and chain click,
A wabble of water
A whoosh of skin and metal

The light dances above my eyes
A moving body
A silent hymn

A snippet of breaths
Laughing, shouting, singing
To somewhere, From somewhere

Sitting up, blinds drawn
A gallow full of light
A bottle poured right

All birds rise,
Beaks beckoned by light
The morning on the canal is such a warm beautiful sight.

The sound of raindrops against your roof.
The beaks tapping upon your windows, of a swan nearby.
The scuttle of a duck into its tidy nest.
The shouting and cheering of London's best 🦆

You've made these walls your canvas.
Bringing the outside in,
you turn anything, inside out.

You reveal what lies behind masks.
Bright joyous grins,
or that quiet empty place.

You move within dark spaces with an ephemeral touch.
A glimpse here, a glance there,
your transient whisper infinite - yet brief.

Wooden panels turn into bars of gold,
Window blinds to the flickering of an angel's piano.
Panes of glass to portals of nirvana.
All weight becoming nothing,
All matter becoming something.

Upon each rise and fall,
Between every splinter and crevice,
Within each abyss of shade,
My memories of Grace - reincarnated again once more.

beer
please
wine
thanks

I have logged out
and left my bum's favourite place
opened the windows
and dusted off my clothes

wrinkled and rough
old but felt new
like a caveman I jumped out
and around the fire

I moved and grooved
Screaming and shouting
jumping and rolling
scaring those I came across

I feel alive again
awake and moving
until I hear
that this poem is being recorded