There's a fine line
between naivety
and optimism
but there is a line
There's a fine line
between absurdism
and cynicism
but the line matters
There's a fine line
between life
and death
but a much wider line
between being alive
and knowing you're alive
doon the Stra'ven Road
distant mountains high wi snow
as a take ma walk
the Stra'ven Road, long,
links me straight to Hamilton
where ma parents lived
I used to cycle
back home up the Stra'ven Road
knee's too knackered now
When the big freeze came
Aw the cars stuck, at angles
on the Stra'ven Road
when a die, the hearse
to Bent Cemet'ry will go
doon the Stra'ven Road
An' then Stra'ven Road
will never see me again
my travel days gone
the absence of war
is not peace
peace is joy in silence
the absence of war
is simply the absence of war
It takes two to tango
but only one
to start a war
without consent
there is no dance
but there can still be war
without consent
what are we to do
who do not want the dance of war
when the other dancer insists?
She, child-woman
confident but tentative
holding her dress up with one hand
so she doesn't trip over the hem
the other hand, the left, outstretched
feeling the way
in the half-light
brushing the cold castle stone
as she walks to her destiny
not knowing she is immortal already
Its whiteness seduces
all but the hardest soul.
I sit, entranced,
know I'm lucky to be alive.
Oh to be a child again
on a day like this.
