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The sky is glowing;
the fields are bright green;
the trees are swaying;
the morning sunshine
is making everything look more beautiful
than I have ever seen.
The birds are singing;
the ladybirds are foraging;
the flowers are blooming;
the spirit of nature is renewing.
The wind is blowing;
the people are smiling;
the children are laughing;
the dogs are barking;
the cats are resting;
even those who have a job to do
are thoroughly enjoying being awake and alive-
looking, talking, rushing, walking,
evolving, and soaring.
The colours are vibrant;
the music is slow;
the energy all around is more tangible and potent
than you could ever want;
the liquid refreshments continue to flow.
The bells at the turn of the hour ring out;
the statues of metal and stone
look as if they are about to come to life;
there is ice-cream being eaten hurriedly before it melts;
there is the potential of a hopeful and happy future
to be seen in every shared like and dislike.
The lovers are loving;
the readers are reading;
the listeners are listening;
the searchers are searching.
The air is warm to the touch;
the unseen and unnoticed heroes and angels
are doing what they always do,
and are gifting as many people as they can
with hope, joy, love, and fun.
Caring about the well-being of another has never meant as much;
everyone and everything is thankful
as they smile and say hello to the sun.
Moving on.
Putting the past behind me.
Thinking about the future.
No regrets.
Feeling hopeful.
Feeling human.
The bouquet of flowers is still in the hotel room,
where it will forever stay.
The moment we left it there and walked away,
what we had was gone, what we built,
and once were able to keep afloat
and sail the waves of uncertainty
was lost at sea-
even though there was a time for us both
that we looked at each other and said we were sure.
What we had was doomed to fail from the first minute,
and it instantly spiraled out of our control,
until we both knew our future together was uncertain.
Everything was good, until it wasn’t.
We could say anything to each other, until we couldn’t.
I never wanted it to end this way, ever-
not in my darkest and intense of nightmares;
I never wanted to feel such pain, ever-
not in the darkest hours of my despair.
This is my way of moving forward.
This is my way of stranding the bad memories that I have,
forgetting about them, leaving them, and sailing away.
This is my way of being rid of the poison in my heart,
and being cured.
This is my way of closing the door for the last time,
and leaving behind forever the forgotten bouquet.
The smell of freshly-mowed, dew-speckled, fragrant grass-
the colour of the rolling hillsides of the English countryside,
the colour you would only find elsewhere in Eden-
transports me to a field in Austria,
where the air is clear and open and stretches for miles,
and in the distance the horizon is filled by the imposing sight
of the snow-tipped Untersberg mountain.
The feeling of raindrops falling on my head, running down my face-
the taste of natures tears on my lips,
in my mouth, on my tongue, down my throat-
relocates me to Brazil,
to the base of a thousand year-old tree at the heart of the Amazon Rainforest,
in-awe of all the sounds of life that I am hearing all-around:
the smells, the colours- all resonating singularly and harmoniously
to a single beautiful note.
The sight of a rainbow arching across the sky,
the sight of every colour imaginable reflected in fresh puddles on the ground,
and in the gaze of wide-eyed on-lookers-
takes me over oceans and kilometres
to the town of Bluff on the South Island of New Zealand,
to witness the breath-taking spectacle that is the aurora australis-
silently dancing before me, and leaving me frozen in wonder.
The sound of Bumblebees buzzing in the sunlight,
going from one garden to the next-
evolves in my mind to become
the sound of a hummingbirds wings beating without rest;
and at the same time that I am in my garden in England,
I am also in the hot Sonoran Desert in Mexico-
equally entranced by the sound, so much so that I am lost for hours.
And in the time that I am lost,
I find within me and around me all that is delicate, beautiful, alive,
and to be found all-year-round in natures showers,
and especially in the petals of April Flowers.
The Life, the Light, the Tears, of the Poet of the Sphere 