Was it a foxtrot or waltz?
We weren't much good at it
but that wasn't the point,
you teetering in your heels,
me awkward in a dark suit,
two small-town newly-weds
who'd driven miles and miles
down lonely country roads
to dance in the Royal Hotel
on a misty Friday night.

Read Dancing in the Royal Hotel

There is a kind of beauty in a face that's died.
The tranquil brow, the silence of the parted lips
speak of a calm, a peace beyond a restless tide.

I thought of this last night when restless in the bed
I looked beyond my fretful hopes and fears and saw
your shadow-shrouded body and your dim-lit head.

Read Still Life

Ah strange, distant and beautiful woman,
pushing a trolley down an avenue of tins,
a child in tow, a shopping list in hand,

how much I adore the curve of your waist,
the sway of your body, the pause, the turn
and reed-quick bending to one side of you.

Read To Julia in the Supermarket