I press myself into your chest
close my eyes and dance
Nina Simone sings
my arms wrap tighter
entwined
we move as one
slowly
deliberately
unaware of who
or where we are
in these tentative
fleeting moments
we feel free…

what doesn't kill you 
makes you stronger 
it doesn't 
layers 
relentlessly 
painfully 
stripped  
eroded 
one  
by  
one 

is that you 
I can't see you 
are you in there 
your smile 
your laugh 
your voice 
monotone 
without colour 
I  
miss  
you

waiting to hear 
waiting to know 
waiting in fear 
waiting in hope 
waiting for sleep 
waiting for dawn 
waiting to stop 
waiting to start 
waiting in line 
waiting in time 
waiting for you 
waiting for life

I miss the silence 
occasionally deafening 
I miss the comeraderie 
when we clapped and held a light 
I miss the frequent family chats 
via zoom and what's app 
I miss you telling me 
stay safe wear a mask 
I miss…

tens 
hundreds 
thousands 
unnoticed they die 
their number up 
but never called 
demographic unknown 
daily updates forgotten 
next slide please forgotten 
wash your hands forgotten 
wear a mask forgotten 
keep your distance forgotten 
warnings  
disregarded 
unheeded 
tens 
hundreds 
thousands 
unnoticed…

I sailed on a sea of green 
I sailed on a sea of blue 
swam in the sea of hopeless 
was lost in the ocean of you 

I sailed on a sea of sacrifice 
where fear of failure abounds 
drifted…

For decades football has been about money, fans' feelings flung to the sidelines, homes of football renamed, removed, demolished, emblems redesigned, colours sullied, players graded by statistics, assists, completed passes, goals (the only stat that actually matters), game times changed…

Scanning 
anxiously 
around each 
every corner 
adrenaline rushes 
the aisles Pac-Man runs 
you try to evade 
but they appear 
unnerved 
bandits without masks 
tiptoeing across your path 
grabbing that which you 
physically-distanced 
are looking for 

outlaws of compassion 
standing 
delivering …

now we have 
a different kind of love 
a love that's taking 
the long road home 
you tell your stories 
stitched together 
in a broken memory of truth 
we listen like we've never 
heard the story before 
do our best…

Found you dressed this morning, 
sitting on the edge 
of your home hospital bed 
in your polka dot swimsuit. 
You thought you were on holiday, 
but couldn't understand why 
the pictures on your wall 
were the very same as the…