Nirvana:
A state of pure peace, delight, relish in sunlight. Lean back in satisfaction. Upon perhaps a stool, eyes wide with hope. Love fluttering, two clothes pegs on shoulders, wings a fluttering you off your feet.
 
Swept fresh hair, beneath supple skin. Jaw relaxed, breath in-took. Heaven sent. Nirvana, nirvana that's where we went. 

If your scream like a flower 
Crashed as a petal fell
There would be soft dwindling raindrops
Drenching 
thirst quenching
Under a spell. 

If there were to be roots manoeuvred
 And space redefined 
The tramways of your branching 
May have been inclined
To reach for new enclosure 
Beyond the man-made sign 
And spread out there in tunnels
New places, hunt and find. 

But you'd fear not for the howling wind
Or rusty digger
Nor foreign hound
For under the forest of shadowing leaves
Places were always to be found. 

Etchments Interwined

Weave into me
Oh but a heart,
And words that spill from your mouth,
 Let them evade into a sense of self,

I wanted your hand on the nape of my neck,
The icey whispers of a breath released,
The cooling waves,
 And ever since my heart has been enslaved.

So we etched it on a tree did not we,
How your heart should belong to the wind
Molecules, gust us up from our feet.
And life beckons reminders of a trusted feat.  

Gran-ifique
From the eyes you acquire
To the tips of said feet
Through towers with running chimes
And steps, burrows, it is Gran-ifique. 

We view our prima facie
Where lights hung from trees,
Enchanted Christmas former day.

We roam though, perform great feats,
With our knees, muddied boots,
Shadows in ice-cool heat.

Our stride in tangents,
Body a flow,
Through gates we wonder,
How still do I wonder though.

It was almost insatiable, 
The feeling.
Like boarding a plane,
A balloon dwindling,
Filling up,
Over the boundaries we had once lain.

How light shone down,
Like the light from two curtains drawn back,
A flash drew us alit, 
And below us patches enlaced with a stitch. 

Light circled us in halos above, 
Beneath crowns did we lay,
Golden in shimmering sun,
As we released into the light air,
Fingers laced as one. 
 
It was brilliant, fantastic like being set free
The blue above me
Hopes and dreams below
The stars almost there to see.  

The Magical Mirror

   “Morning dear!” Mrs Povey shouted to her daughter. Ailsa forced herself out of bed, “Morning mother!” she replied yawning. She pulled her pale white curtains open, it was another foggy tuesday morning and the streets were empty, except for a small elderly woman slowly making her way down the street.  

   “Hurry up dear! Your breakfasts ready!” Mrs Povey said impatiently. Ailsa quickly grabbed her hairbrush, swiftly running it through her knotty brown hair, before tying it up in a ribbon.                “Dear! Your toasts going to get cold!”                                                                                                                          “I’m coming mum!” Ailsa snapped before taking one last glance outside her window. It looked like the old woman was heading towards their shop. Ailsa sighed, imagining what lies Mr Berkshire would tell today.

   “Here you go.” Mrs Povey said placing a plate of half burnt toast in front of Ailsa.                           “Thanks mum.” Ailsa smiled unenthusiastically before taking a small bite out of the unburnt half of the toast. “I’m glad you brought that strange Mr Berkshire back here dear,” Mrs Povey grinned “Just think we’re going to make a fortune!”                                                                                                                     “I suppose.” Ailsa said unsurely, taking another bite out her toast before stopping quickly as she heard the squeak of the shop door opening. She took one last bite from her toast before grabbing her school bag and running downstairs. She wasn’t going to let MCC Berkshire tell anymore lies.

   Ailsa stormed down the stair , her mother following closely behind. She found Mr Berkshire speaking to a short elderly woman with white permed hair, pale skin and very large glasses hiding her bloodshot eyes. As Ailsa got closer she could see that one of the womans eyes was green, the other a dark shade of blue. “May I interest you in anything madam?” Mr Berkshire asked ignoring Ailsa’s presence. “Well actually I was looking at that mirror.” The woman said sharply.                       “Oh yes!”  Mr Berkshire said enthusiastically. “Lovely mirror that. Edged with gold that is.” Mr Berkshire said. The woman ran her fingers across its edging, watching the dust collect on her fingers.  “It’s very old.” She mumbled.                                                                                                                              “It’s antique madam! Great condition, and oh! What a story behind it too!” Mr Berkshire said excitedly. Ailsa sighed, before walking out the shop door. She wasn’t going to listen to anymore lies.

   Miss Barkley was never very popular. She was short, plump and getting quite old. It had never bothered her that she didn’t have any friends. She didn’t need friends. She had money. Lots of it. Every year when it was her birthday she would treat herself to a very expensive present and this year, for her 70^th, Mrs Barkley decided to treat herself to a nice new house.

    There was one house in particular Miss Barkley was interested in. It was large and tucked away from the noise of the town. It was perfect for Miss Barkley and so it was decided that this house was to be her future home. Soon the day of her 70^th birthday arrived and she found herself standing outside her new house the keys dangling from her long fingers.

   The house hadn’t been lived in for years and was completely empty on the inside. Well it seemed to be. A few old paintings decorated the hallway and when Miss Barkley finally reached the top of the old winding staircase she saw there wasn’t much more upstairs either. There was a few dim lamps dotted about the place but other than that an air of eerie darkness hung over the house. There was one room however that seemed strangely bright. With slight hesitation Mrs Barkley entered the odd room.

   A large fireplace sat in the corner of the room and a small rug lay in the centre of the room. A pair of moth-bitten white curtains covered a small window and next to it stood a big object covered by a black cloth. Miss Barkley walked over to the object and carefully removed the cloth.

   A large magnificent mirror stood in front of Miss Barkley. She ran her fingers across its gold edging before daring to take a peek at her reflection. But Miss Barkley did not see her reflection. Instead her whole life stared back at her.

   She saw the time when she was at nursery school and she nicked another child’s red crayon even though she already had a red crayon herself. She saw the time she got expelled at school, for smoking in the toilets, and she saw the time her mother chucked her out the house to walk the streets. She saw the day of her marriage and the then the times she cheated on him behind his back while he still loved her dearly. She saw the time when she ran over a cat and drove on without care. She saw the mirror in front of her crack and felt the sharp glass hit her in the eye. She felt the sharp glass hit her in the eye. She felt her head hit the cold stone floor and then she saw her grave.

   MCC Berkshire finished his story. The elderly woman looked very excited. “What a wonderful story!” She exclaimed with a high pitched squeak. “How much?” She asked, glancing at the mirror. Mr Berkshire calculated a price in his head, “hmmm….. £650?” Mr Berkshire guessed.                   “Deal.” The woman fiddled in her handbag before pulling out a leather purse. “There you go, £650.” She said counting out the notes into Mr Berkshires hand. “Another satisfied customer.” Mrs Povey mumbled to herself with a grin.