Remembering

Once again on christmas morn
I'll arise with kids on the bed
opening their stockings.
Then downstairs to a hearty breakfast
and presents from under the tree.
There'll be laughter,
good food,
good booze,
and good cheer.
But underneath all that,
a gentle sadness,
because you're not here.


In memory of my mum.

Ghosts

I glance up,
at the luminous full moon,
and saw clouds
and ghosts of past love
haunt the contours of her face.