We are all so scared
of endings

We fear the end
instead of enjoying
the moments in between
the tree that stood and
watched the scene unfold
the little commas
the full stops
the birds on the wire
the places where we
drew breath
the sun that slipped
into the ocean
exclamation mark

I have realised
that endings
are just a point
in time
the one day
the little black
pebble
the moment
the moon
rising behind
the tree

But all that went
before is still there
It still exists
in the whole of
what was

The invisible
can never end

The bonds
between people
unseen
but there
the love
the sun rising
out of the ocean

Always

© Tanya Southey @Ordinary Poetry

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You walked me home
in the loamy light
the rolling hills
the giant trees
the ferns
that hid in
mossy places


You walked me home
on cloudy days
the beating rain
the burning sun
the wispy breeze
that came from
unknown places


You walked me home
the diverted track
the rocky path
the snares that waited
the obstacles that came
from unexpected places


You walked me home

© Tanya Southey @Ordinary Poetry

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Silence

I normally love it
But not the silence
of you gone

There are things
I wish to tell you

Small things
inconsequential things
that mean a lot to me
but mean more
when you have heard them

The sound of your laughter
processing the big, small,
happy and sad

But I cannot speak
with you
People tell me you
will know

But I want to connect
with the spark in
your brown eyes
where I see the glint
of my own spark
looking back at me
Where my inconsequential
achievements are seen
with the gravity of your love

© Tanya Southey @Ordinary Poetry

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Otters hold hands
when they sleep
They don’t want to drift
away from each other

We drift into sleep
without the fear
of water washing
us away

© Tanya Southey @Ordinary Poetry

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I remember you
when the way to your heart
was on the dirt road
The trees of fear
that shaded the way
The rambling dust
where the horse
of your imagination had
carved a path
And the babbling brook
of your hopeful dreams
flowed down to the horizon
that held your north star
That old dirt road
has been tarred by experience
it is a thoroughfare of many now
those who have come to
depend on you
The built up road
with the apartment blocks
of adulthood
Yet the other day
I stumbled on a daisy
in the chink of the cement
and I saw you running
in a field with the sun in your
hair and a dandelion in your hand
Child of my soul.

© Tanya Southey @Ordinary Poetry

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