Pieces

I have four good friends
And they are linked to me
Whenever we're together
There's always continuity

We fit into a greater whole
Just where we ought to be
Comforted by mutual
Irreplaceability

You may not feel just as we do
You may have lost your place
You may not have four good friends
But here I put my case

You should not despair
For you may find friends anywhere
Wherever you may show your face
Be assured - you'll find a place

Unlike my four friends and me
You have adaptability
Of this fact I am sure
For life is not a jigsaw

What Can I Say ...

What can I say?
The Second Hand is actually
The third - but that is incidental
To what I really wanted
To say

The Second Hand has achieved of late
A most indecent velocity
That is what I wanted
To say

It never went that fast
In my younger day
One must also say
That minutes hours and days
Will go the same way

The Moon walked beside me yesterday
As I went on my way
It awaited my return
As if I had not been away
And that was the end
Of another day

That is all I wanted
To say

The Optimist

Each morning he gets up before the dawn and walks through the darkness to the shore of the bay to see if the sun will rise today.  For many days he has done this way and, though the sun rises upon lands to the East, each day the fog of the bay steals the sunlight away and, though there is light, it is grey.  Today as before he sits on the shore and stares three-point-one miles away, toward the horizon, sunk in the grey.  But today, three-point-one miles away, the curtains of the sky left awry, allow a single ray (golden and precious) to dawn and light his eye.  And he turns away, into the grey of the day, with the gold of the sun in his heart - a promise that forever it will not be this way, and that soon the grey will depart.