the tick of the clock

a heartbeat, low, sonorous

dark clouds moving north

amidst ruins a

lonely statue contemplates

the meaning of life

from above a gong

time for meditation

extending the tone

with pen and paper

my head bowed over the page

in another world

another grey day

I find the colours of hope

etched on memory

in the vase one rose

intensifies its colour

the others fading

many cloudy nights

without the twinkle of stars

to raise our spirits

walking through the woods

we sit for a while and watch

bright leaves unfurling

the beauty of trees

dressed in buds and spring blossom

a glorious day

reclaiming my life

blocking out my calendar

marking out my beat