NOT GETTING WET

 I think I must be going through a little boom at the moment the Muse is being very generous.
This first poem happened as it says. I did wake up trying to remember the poem I'd written just in a dream.

I dreamt you last night

placed us both in fragments

from meetings and songs

and woke in the darkness

attempting to recall

the poem I had written

sat on that hillside

in the rain

not getting wet

Here's one that arrived in a rush and still needs revision. 

I know that eventually

time will catch up with me

pin me to the bloody floor

in some way I will not like

let alone have foreseen

pay me back in kind

for each night

I crept in with the milk

leave me marooned on a chair

my tongue stuck on repeat

Again it is what it is. There are no hidden layers of meaning.
Sometimes that's ok. 
Oh, creeping in with the milk is something my father used to say when I came home in the small hours. You need to be old enough to remember when milk men delivered milk in bottles very early in the morning. 

Here's me being very vain. Kathryn Williams was amazing. She's on tour at the moment and if you get the chance go and see her. Last Friday was so good. I'm off to see her again on Sunday in Exeter. 

Until next time.