The forest banquet

She wandered the forest in the witching hour, a drumbeat in her veins

The tattered dress once of silk and lace hanging in rags on her frame

But this pilgrimage is one to make through the painstaking trek

No-one believes her, but she gives not a care,

They say she imagines things that there’s nobody there

Nodding to themselves and one another about the “silly old woman ” who meets her lover.

She comes to a clearing and begins to dance

Slowly in circles, building up slowly  and losing her years

Till the young girl she stops in mid twirl on a carpet of clover

Behind her a light shines over her shoulder of creamy white skin,

And it comes from within the nearest trees

The table is set with a lamp as she turns,  a long cloth of moss it’s cover

He’s here, and is serving the food, the wine

To the lady in the emerald silk, with the pearls at her neck

Her spinning took her back to the time he was here before

She’s to go back soon but she knows it’s really and truly just fine

For then they will be together for all of the time

The banquet is finished, lights are dim, she sighs

Quietly hugs him goodnight, no words are exchanged

Once again old, dressed in tattered rags she hobbles to her home

A smile on her face and a wave from her hand

She closes the door and gets ready for bed, shabby dress on a chair

Will she tell anyone of her travel tonight?

This time she thinks it’s my secret, they all think I’m mad

But have no idea what they’ve missed by closing their eyes to the light

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A life so ordinary

The thing you wanted me to reject so badly to make me better, you said

Was a life so ordinary where the real people live

The world where money and power was both question and answer

But I ask you once more, who is it you’re afraid of?

If it’s ever gained you anything except more emptiness inside

I see you carry on digging like a dog hunting it’s bone

For that thing, that elusive thing to complete your picture

That last colour that changes the image to one of contentment

That will change the drab greys and bathe them in golden sunlight

It’s not so difficult to find the treasure you seek

Stop looking for the pot brimming with gold, riches, power

Just look for the container that looks a little battered and bruised but standing

It isn’t on view unless you take off the blinkers

It isn’t made of precious metals but looks, well, ordinary

All you need is there, the things to make you whole, heal and console

If you stop being afraid of a life so ordinary