The Patience Garden

In the grey, miserable drizzle,
the shadows fall unsympathetically
like lost men in a queue of thieves.
There is a portent,
a promise of emptiness.
The fence fights to hold back the dim evening,
but light breaks through knotholes in the damp laps.
April is having a long lie-in.

Crystal droplets fall,
camellia still unbloomed,
dusk offers nothing.


(c) Andrew Halsall Smith, 2018

Our yesterdays define our tomorrows

Tomorrow is Dryburn:
a dawn of a beautiful day,
a dawn of another beautiful day.

Tomorrow is Lyon:
midnight cocktails, premier suite;
later, sunken whirlpool bath, pain au chocolat.

Tomorrow is Mauritius:
infinity pool, cornflour beach,
sugar cane and street market.

Tomorrow is Catalunya:
human towers, Roman towers,
paella and local rioja.

Tomorrow is Malta:
the rooftop pool, a crystal lagoon,
penning a novella on the dark balcony.

Tomorrow is Antibes:
beach picnic and luxury ice cream,
the sea warm late into the evening.

Tomorrow is Rome:
tiramisu in the rain, cats,
timelessness on a priceless timepiece.

Tomorrow is a state of mind:
a souvenir from country of origin
and a suitcase full of possibilities.


(c) Andrew Halsall Smith, 2018