Things Poetic

 Distress Smiling, it belies the pain underneath,  Still there, yet, not The destruction inside, masking on the out tremble in the hand, shake in the voice, catch in the throat watching distant

 holiday train, tube, train more train sleeper train train train relax.......uffizi, Italian food..... train train sleeper train train train car home

Mirror Is the way I see my face, in the reflection the same as the face other people see mirrored, reflected or changed is the dark I see, the same as what others,  you, see are the faults I know I have, the same or do they see far worse is my souls light actually darker and I just see the negative, looking ok to me, but a vacuum to anyone and everyone else

herself  She wasn't the thing she saw herself as a dark, bad, selfish, manipulating shadow of whom she is That glint,  the precious metal shining through the layers of hurt, of self doubt, of blame, catching the shimmering sunlight  trying to be the person his faith told her she should be Hiding from judgement hiding the beauty from herself that I saw, from the beginning Its the eyes that can't hide it, full of pain, of loss, of hurt, yet bubbling up at a moment circles of colour, or uniqueness, lips lifting into a joyous laugh,  skin catching that in a flush of otherworldly abandon, not otherworldly  ethereal from another age, another life, past, future

 Normality Bound in societal norm, Do this this way, don't do that, Wear this, do your hair like that this....that Life and living determined by abstract views, ethereal preconceptions of normality a glance, a snigger, a full on stare, cruel words,  cutting words rejection of the person, in more than person, but also in words, deeds and thoughts at least we are not like that....like that abnormality like that outlier that unique once self assured person who is now empty, alone and lonely normality, a crutch that changes daily, and a sword to cut the legs from the unusual, to make the normal feel normal 

 Promotion Blue and white, draped across the town, excitement swells days before, expectation, hope, dress for battle,  walk into the coliseum of noise, singing, chanting, with hope and desire feet fly, bodies whip round, some fall, others stretch for the round ball Eruption as it crosses the line...1-0 Can the day get any better ? yes, its 2-0 and the looks of expectation have turned into smiles of happiness,  hoping its history in the making drought of activity into the second half  continues, with no change stewards emerge, Canute like, to hold back the tide of people, poised to rush  and greet their heroes with wild abandon seemingly out of the blue another foot drives the ball 3-0 and the stadium erupts the ball flies, and the whistle goes Promotion finally let the party continue