Grey like slate, skipping, slipping
Childlike innocence, wide-eyed tripping...

The photographer directed us to some trees
Outside to sunshine and a slight breeze...

Strolling along the banks of the Rhone
Amongst eerie glows and shadows grown...

How can you expect to be heard?
If distrusting silence is preferred...

Sharp-serrated, corrugated
Surf-rush swirl, rib-rack grey...

You enter my dreams in full focus
I had sensed you, now I know you...

As I gaze my mind upon this scene
Of sweeping pines and glacial stream...

As I sit and ponder
'It's that writer's block again...

So very difficult to reach the words
As true emotions remain unheard...

Waking next morning with slight trepidation
Thinking of your sister's wedding occasion...

Look you miserable bxxxxxd
Can you not see what there is to love...

Once kith and kin had been greeted
We filed into the hall to be seated...