there are times to come
and times that have died
i could run away –
find myself a place
and just decide to stay

every now and then
i stop and think about them
the times we had
the moments we shared

i stopped to think about it
all this change
but no signpost or direction
i could see nothing on a map

it never had one goal
nor was it a slave to ambition
it was, unlikely, to come to fruition
but then that is fine,
take the cliche –
of good company and good wine

too often,
the surface comes loose
the inside exposed
like ill fitting shoes

looking back –
seems unreal
a melody of how i feel
someone else living –
someone else paying the bill

i am amused by the competition
but children are not a possession
just as they are not a prize
nor do they bolster your defences