electric guitars

trysts in cafe bars

balmy summer days

memory’s a deep purple haze

thirty years of I love you’s

Pearl teardrops soak through

LP’s and RP’s

Creme Eggs and Smarties

he’s not you

that much is true

and I’m not her

old flames

inflamed

© Memory Lane 14.11.2013

by Alexandra Carr-Malcolm

Picture Credit: https://uk.pinterest.com/pin/240238961343388899/

Misty, milky, windowpane,

I draw your face,

and write your name,

an upturned smile,

two eyes as dots,

it’s been a while,

I love you lots!

© Smiley 22.09.2013

by Alexandra Carr-Malcolm

English: A smiley face (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

 

I am doing this for you,

and for those who never made it,

those who fell by the wayside,

and those who simply gave up.

I am doing this for you,

so I can hold your hand

and be a bigger vessel,

to hold the pain and tears.

I am doing this for you,

to be the one gone forth,

because by doing it for you,

I am doing it for myself too.

© I am doing this for you II 09.04.2015

by Alexandra Carr-Malcolm

Photo credit: https://uk.pinterest.com/pin/97320041923123290/

Matchmaker trees,

trunks of knobbly knees,

arthritic twigs,

that creak in the breeze.

A splutter of leaves,

yellowed nicotine trees,

the breath of a smoker,

lets out a wheeze.

We’re dying, they weep,

as autumn does creep,

within crispy veins,

as they lay down to sleep.

© Trees 28.09.2012

By Alexandra Carr-Malcolm

Ash Tree in Fall (Photo credit: hz536n/George Thomas)

It’s been ten years long,

since you passed away,

and then you decided,

you’d come to stay.

I was shocked,

when I saw you;

you know,

I adore you.

You never announced,

you’d arrive today,

you bounced straight in,

in your usual way,

announced to me,

you’d come to stay,

gave me a start,

unpacked your bags

and moved into my heart.

© Mother Came to Stay 08.04.2015

by Alexandra Carr-Malcolm

Picture Credit: https://uk.pinterest.com/pin/39547302953922258/

I remember the daily grind through the Peaks;

from Hillsborough to hospice.

Morphine induced twilight hours,

brittle brown heather hair,

cascading watery cataracts,

crashing, weeping, winding.

I know each bend like the veins in my hand;

the outcrops and falling rocks.

Spray from the lorries,

thrown up, muddy teardrops,

sliding down the windscreen,

breaking limits, breaking hearts.

This is the road to hell.

© Death of a Minor 24.05.2014

by Alexandra Carr-Malcolm

Photo credit : photo credit: <a href=”http://www.flickr.com/photos/romeo66/2101025633/”>Romeo66</a> via <a href=”http://photopin.com”>photopin</a> <a href=”http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc-nd/2.0/”>cc</a>