You let your heart blaze, With the fierceness of an inferno, Unrivaled by the bird of myth- And, for fleeting moments you would soar- Until they left you. Emotions burnt out, You would tumble- an ignoble decent, Crash landing you become your own urn, Ashes through an hourglass, But in human form. Awaiting a firey maelstrom of rebirth, Kindling to the spark A match to gasoline Lover to lover... When the stars align, You rise again on firebird wings- Ignite like wildfire- Until the next broken-hearted, broken winged fall.

The sunset was fraudulent. So much of the natural splendour of dusk, Lost in the urban sprawl of half-derelict-factories, And abandoned train stations, As I try - Houdini like, to escape the chains of past emotional baggage, And weigh everything in to lighten the load, Trading in emotions for scrap.

I saw your ghost today, While sitting at your old workbench, In familiar loops and curls of blue ball-point-pen A few meager left-hand-written letters and numbers That bore a date that passed years ago. The knowlege you shared clicking over in my brain Guiding my working hands- You're still here every day as I repair time- Movements automatic; Eyeglass, tweasers, Grease pot, case opener, (That tool now forever referred to as 'the yellow thingie') Screwdrivers of magnificently tiny size- Cronological order. All the pieces there- Dial and hands, One, two, three, Hour. Minute. Second. Crown and stem, quartz movement, Gaskets, setting lev