It is 
the simple 
tasks that 
tickle my
mind for 
so much 
of life 
is complex
come let
us do 
nothing now 
and be 
as quiet 
as snow

Like bubbles 
in glass
or bath
dreams go 
they rise
tickle tease
and fall 
and every
so often 
one pops 
on the 
tip of
nose making 
you smile 

I prefer broken 
things clocks that 
chime late chipped 
dishes thread bare
furniture I celebrate 
them and their 
very own way
for aren’t we
you and me 
a bit slow
a little chipped 
and definitely worn
and aren’t we
all beautifully unique 

I often wonder 
if one less
is better than 
one more for 
less implies need
whereas more implies 
want and then 
where does most
and least fit 
hopes and promises 
I do suppose 

To be 
empty is
to be 
whole for
what is 
better to
shoulder burden 
than one 
who’s free