Between the start and end
No time to make or mend
Too late to scrimp and save
Just time to dig your grave

Time and Tide

Once I maintained that I could be
So happy living by the sea
But even I could never hide
From that relentless, probing tide.

Two Weeks is a Long Time

It's now a fortnight since we met
And I am growing older yet:
Though not the girl you used to be
You're still the perfect girl for me.

My Sorrow

Most lives are a mixture
Of good times and sorrow:
My sorrow's a fixture
Today and tomorrow.

Andrew Belsey

If you've any comments on these poems, Andrew Belsey would be pleased to hear from you.