At some point we were apart
running tracks along the same line,
traversing the spine
of the world
and as we lay and curled
through all the good
and the bad weather,
through time
those tracks
in the distance merged
as close
as they possibly could


End of Route?

National Cycle Network
Town Centre 10 mins
Cycle Lane Look Right
(Mon – Fri 7 – 10 am 4.00 -6.30 pm)
Tramway look both ways
Share the Path
Please keep your dog on a short lead
Yield to Bikes
Local Sustrans volunteers help to look after this path
More support is always needed
Avoid route in wintry conditions
Cyclists Dismount
Turning Traffic give way to pedestrians and cyclists
Dangerous cycle lane
Dismount and Push
Cycle track closed ahead
No cycling
End of Route

Imaginary Snow

They say you should dance
as though no one is watching
and you should sing
as though no one is listening
so why not build snowmen
when imaginary snow is glistening
if your worlds collide
and seek out that dream inside
to prevent you falling apart?
Build up your courage,
and be only guilty
of following your heart.

Lost Cat







I searched through empty rooms
hearing always the purr
though I found nothing but empty space,
little lost lumps of fluff and fur,
so I stopped and stayed within the gloom.

I looked around at forgotten art
seeing always a smiling face
and seeing there a steady hand,
each line lining an accurate trace,
joy returned to my heavy heart.

But now the child’s drawing must do
in place of masterpieces of old
as my searching mind grows slow
and the warmth within me grows cold
to remind me of the lost cat I once knew.



I’m a brick
set within a wall
thick within a church
though have little part at all
in quiet prayers
or peaceful layers of robes and gown.

I do have faith
in the master though,
as he set down his hod
and began his toil
though he could have set me any place:
within the soil to form a road,
or to take the heavy load
of the sad solitude of a prison cell.

We, my brethren and I, cannot tell
which setting will be ours or our last
as, though set fast, for now,
our mortar can be worked loose
and we, in turn, set free.

I’m just a brick
and whatever this building is
I can definitely see
I am a part of it.

The Clock Moves Forward

Warming soil sifts through
my hand
reminding me of sand
on a summer’s beach
while I reach within the tiny packet,
remove the seeds to plant
and think to the future,
hoping these crops will grow,
leaping forward one hour through time
into a new season
I’ve yet to know.

I feed the soil,
pushing forward conditions
to ease the toil of what’s to come,
and so I have time to ponder on
what now to do
and the time now gone.