A Brighton afternoon

Lying back relaxing in the local park

on a public bench in the autumn sun

while the kids explored the jungly bushes,

arrowheads darted across the sky.

They posed the passing question why

all were aimed in the same direction -

heading out across the Channel,

silhouettes streaking the cloud blown sky.

Migrating martins ! All flying south

helped by the storm force wind from the north,

taking advantage of English weather

to help them say goodbye.

Sorry, Sophie

Because you said you were leaving

I grasped the only chance

to ask you out for an evening -

drink, meal, somewhere to dance ?

Your instant, almost echoing

"No" took me aback completely

so when I saw you still standing

there and in the middle clearly

of planning to stay by taking

your coat off, I became confused.

My comment "I thought you were leaving"

was in no way meant to be rude.

I'm sorry if I was appearing

resentful. Rudeness has no excuse.

Please forget my importuning.

You've every woman's right to refuse.

But as ABBA sang 'Take a chance on me'

please forgive and just dance with me.

For several weeks a single peacock

keeps on flying along the track

between the hedge and my allotment

to and fro, forward and back.

Glowing in sunshine when it perches

I love its brightly coloured wings.

It doubtless wants to attract a mate

though unlike some it never sings.

But why keep flying up and down

over the same place all the time?

Do butterflies have territories

to be defended in their prime?

 I don't envy the rich their money,

the famous all their fame,

or the powerful their power -

for to me it's all a game.

But what I do feel jealous of

is their ability when aging

to shack up with the most attractive,

much younger, beautiful women.