Writer | Director

Not on this Earth

Your urbane strides

Topped with a knowing countenance

Covered in butterscotch skin

Browned by your light.

Inside you were a mill

Outside a mill pond.

That composed heart

Always offered

Inciting smiles all the while.

They say a flowers releases most scent

When it knows it’s about to die

You definitely didn’t know

And you definitely didn’t smell

But you know what I am trying to say

You always did.

My other railway track,

Now not touching in the distance.

I will breath the air for you

With the internal echo of always

If I can breath at all.


Your going, has taken reason with it too.

The unimaginable

With no need to imagine.

Your star now shooting

Golden trails to where

I’ll see your soul once more.

But not on this run

Not on this earth

Will verse flow from your tongue again

No more boards will your feet tread

Never to see light dappled through amber

To surrounded ourselves in barley.

Not here

As greedy posterity has grabbed into the past.

You held up the sky

And now that you have passed through the gate

It has collapsed.

I cannot see.

Charcoal scratched into my eyes

Black leaves in nouses

Hang from the evergreen.

The music never died inside you.

You died.

And now music can’t survive.