while there is flesh

while there is flesh
on your bones
you owe it to yourself
to make your feelings
clear to those you love
and who love you

while there is breath
in your lungs
and light in your eyes
you owe it to yourself
to live love to the full
and unceasingly

openly and honestly
without prevarication
center yourself on it
nothing else matters

John Lyons

The fox and the robin

A fox and a robin
           share the same space
in the garden
           the fox dozing on a bench
the robin on the fence
           singing its heart out
they’re living
           in different worlds
just as I am
           on this lovely spring morning
the three of us
           without a care
in our self-contained 
           lives

John Lyons

Dream sequence

In this dream
           you and I are standing
in the shadow of palm trees
           we are eating fresh dates

beyond the fringes
           of the oasis
nothing but white sand
           under the moonlight

a white horse is tethered
           to one of the trees

you pass me a flask of water
           and I put it to my lips
I empty the flask
           and hand it back to you

there’s a narrow stream
           beside which
you crouch down
           to refill the flask

without a word
           we mount the horse

you take the reins
           and slowly
we head off
           into the desert

John Lyons

It never occurred to me

It never occurred to me
           that you’d one day
become a memory
           and that I’d struggle
to recall the many details
           of the all the times
the days and nights
           we spent together

In my mind I recall
           the humming birds
that so fascinated me
           that would appear
out of nowhere
           their iridescent plumage
the whirr of their wings
           holding them in suspension
as they sucked
           the succulent nectar
from their chosen blooms
           and the animated dance
with which they choreographed
           their disappearance

For a while we shared
           a common language
that of pleasure together
           and for a while I believed
that the love was genuine
           so perfect and so complete
that it could never possibly
           end

And those parched fields
           where the cattle grazed
through the long hot days
           and the white egrets
that accompanied their shadows
           feeding off the ticks and flies
that their ungainly shuffle
           disturbed

It never occurred to me
           that one day memories
would fade and that the mind
           would slowly wind down
into an empty silence and that our love
           would be little more than. . . .

John Lyons