normalness

wanting to write
is not the same
as actually writing

and the longing
to fill the empty page
does not fill it

my mind remains
obstinately blank

all I have is…

how about a nice cup of tea
or maybe a few
and when can we watch
doctor who
and how I’d like
to snuggle with you

and though it rhymes
and represents myself
it’s hardly poetry

just the ramblings
of my mind
far too content
to wail and moan
or grandly talk
philosophy

just the lovely
normalness
of you and me
and quiet days
that pass so soft
and yet so swift

Feverish Nonsense

I feel a little feverish
(both metaphor and physical)
There’s a flush on my cheeks
(and a pain in my ear)

And I’m thinking about thinking about you
(An entirely different kind of you)
And I’m thinking I should be thinking about work

Though my mind wanders
And begins its ponders

On topics of distance
(slightly exaggerated)
Numbers and equations
(known and imaginated)

And I’m making up words now
Just to get a rhyme
And I’m making no sense now
But really what’s new?
And I’m wishing for a pub now
And a nice long pint
Where we could just sit now
Just me and you