Acceptance is so damn difficult

like a sniper in the night

Why would she when each attempt at calculating the odds

Ended in a bout of mindboggling vertigo?

It’s full of air, a giant bloat,

As though I’m pregnant from a ghost.

She wondered whether her story might blow up in her face,

Spattering her skin with the ink of thousands of wasted words.

My teenage years they were formative (Yo!)

Back in Viareggio where I lived.

Say goodbye to unpegged socks and thongs!

Today, she should have chosen absolute silence

Well it's too late baby, well it's too late...

Did my ridiculous greeting keep me safe?

Chameleons playing charades,

Expert wool-pullers

Laden with artfully repurposed baggage.

Today there is no cascading creativity, no giddy keyboard trampolining.

And then he lay me on the bed,

Shoved loads of needles everywhere.

I’m used to it, I hardly flinch,

But OMG today I did!

But then she was exhausted and it wasn’t even 9 am.

Years ago, I locked eyes with a homeless young man on Regent Street in London. I really wanted to help him, but did't. I still think of him. It haunts me. I hope he is ok.

I'm slightly wobbly and the saddle hurts my bum

My husband plans way in advance,

While I sit there dreaming of romance.

Bold and eager before,

Now, she shivered, shy,

Why did her anger inevitably

tangle in discombobulated thoughts,

Before short-circuiting in tears of frustration?

The early twitter starts at dawn,

With teenage sparrows carrying on,