Good Night

Who are you to know

the insides of me?

Why should you see

the thoughts that filter through?

You’re nothing but

a passing moment.

Already prepared

with a goodbye speech,

how the night was fun,

but now the sun has risen.


Slightly burnt, with crusts a little too thick. 

The last of the butter, evenly spread.

A little sweeter, perhaps? Too bland otherwise. 

Is there anything left in the cupboard? 

Jam, marmite, lemoncurd?

Maybe the marmite. 

Some will hate but others will love. 

They’ll say the taste is too strong. 


They’ll have their opinions. They’ll say. 

But still they will take, despite their talk. 

And when there’s nothing left, they’ll move onto the next,

leaving nothing but a few crumbs and an empty shelf. 

Empty Bench and Lamp post


What would you say,
If you were to say goodbye?
Would you keep it short and sweet,
Would you delve down deep?

What would you do,
If you had no more tomorrows?
Would you look back in pleasure,
Would you give away your treasure?

What would you say, what would you do,
If you met your final hour?
Would you hold on tight,
Would you give away your power?

What would you say,
If you could only say one more thing?
Would you be honest, would you be kind?
Would you let them into your mind?