On Hearing of Tom's Passing

After his death came the stillness.
A quiet, like the dead of night.
You could almost touch the silence
That crept through the house.
The light lost its brilliance
As darkness drifted in.
Until the the sun shone
And our spirits lifted.
We remembered the times we shared
Laughter joy and tears.
Recalling memories that we knew
Would pull us through
The times when we will miss him the most.
Goodbye dear Tom
God Bless

Val Cook 2013 

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You and Me

You were the One
Who ticked all my boxes.

You were the sum total
Of all my needs.

You were the fuel
That drove my engine everywhere

You were the journey
That I was willing to take.

You were the ivy
That invaded and muffled my walls

You were the distance between you and me
Measured in tears.

You were the One
Who push all my buttons and pushed me away.

VCook  2012 


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Wide Awake and Watchful

Wide awake and watchful
I sense a difference in the morning.
Drawing back the curtains,
Surprise,
Soft white silent snow
Is falling fast in delicate flakes,
Like feathers from the breast
Of the stately swan.
Covering everything in a wonderful frosting
That drifts with the wind creating
Unexpected sculptures in  trees and hedgerows.
The unusual silence is magical
On this cold winter  morning
A surreal calming scene.
An early morning snapshot
Before the family awake.

ValCook Jan 2012

Regret

His head was bowed as he walked down our street 

This young man in his twenties.

But he walked like an old man

Consciously pacing himself 

One foot after another.

I don’t know where he lived

Or where he might be going, 

But he was there 10am 

Every  Tuesday morning

With out fail.

I began to look for him and as he passed 

My eyes followed him to the corner

Where he turned and disappeared from view.

I often thought of  standing on the corner

To see where he was going

Every Tuesday at 10am.

But I couldn’t, it would be prying,

And I felt sure he would have noticed me.

One Tuesday he didn’t come down our street.

I was sitting by the window

Watching both the clock and the street

Until it chimed  the half hour.

I was curious even concerned ,

As to why after so may months 

 He had  not appeared.

Where had he come from. 

Where was he going.

His absence was disturbing.

I was constantly aware that he was missing.

If only he would come back, 

I would stand at the door 

And  try to raise a smile from him

By  calling out “Good morning.”

But he never did return.

Val Cook Sept 2011

The Rhythm of the Ride

I love a motorbike ride

An open road signals freedom,

Freedom from everyday restrictions,

Rules that keep me in check.

Nagging worries that drag me down.,

Its liberating, exhilarating,

Lying low, head down chin up,

Open throttle and feeling the wind

Whistling past.

Tyres on asphalt sing their song.

Engine finely tuned throbbing along.

Bobbing and weaving

Swaying left then right

Out of the traffic and into the light

Along narrow winding country lanes

Rolling round bends

Caution on the corners

Then back on to the highway.

Zoom zoom zooming free and easy

Riding the distance, free at last.

Feeling good filled with pride

At one with the machine

In tune to the rhythm of the ride.

Val Cook 2011