From My Reservoir

I present my gratitude
in cupped hands,
fingers tightly interlocked
to stop it dripping out,
running down my forearm,
and dropping from my elbow
in a slow, gentle, rhythm.

I scooped it up this morning

from the pool within me.

Knelt down in the dirt - naked -

and filled my affectionate palms.

Filled them with warm waters

of flittering memories and

half-grasped emotions...

I held it to your lips,
but you wouldn’t drink.
Not from a girl dishevelled and bare.
From a girl crazed with 
those past excitements.
Past, present, and future
mingled and murky 
in the rock-pool of her palms.

~ written March 2025