Crossroads (day 147)

Perhaps the end
Perhaps a mend
Perhaps a little chinchilla
Perhaps a scary Godzilla

Perhaps the end
Perhaps a mend
Perhaps the eyes of desire
Perhaps the enchanted Medusa

Perhaps the end
Perhaps a mend
Perhaps a roll of fortune
Perhaps a chance encounter

Perhaps the end
Perhaps a mend
Perhaps the change of direction
Perhaps a charming burlesque

Rocket Queen (day 146)

Aloof and alone
Too busy to moan
Fancy footing and ill fitting
Damned these clothes together again

Loose belts
And low knickers
High hopes and bed wetters
Chances are slim to none, I hope

Rainbows and proud Wellies
Puddle hops and muddled tops
Crowd gained, a crowd lost
Proud moments for me, mother

(day 142)

Publicly
You are Queen Sheba
Privately
You wreck the silk you lay upon

And cruelly you are
Within all your membranes
Your twisted circles
And battered gestures

Servants who respect
Desire to please
Are treated like vermin
Amongst your knees

To late tomorrow
For the love has all gone
The bitterness reigns
And your friends have all blown away

Into the blue skies of a new day