Mayday

If I run away and hide will you find me

In deepest ocean’s trenches, without air,

Flotsam with forgotten, undiscovered,

Adrift with other lost souls dwelling there.

If I send an SOS, will you hear it,

Answer sonic plea to surface sent,

Will you, please, at least, alert another

Before exploding breath in lungs is spent.

If I hear no engine fast upon the waters,

If rescue seems a distant hope far gone,

If none there shall be up above to save me,

I’ll rest down here, learn somehow, to belong.

I’ll move among strange creatures as their shadow,

Learn their ways, survive as best I can,

Never fear if depths are not your forte

But, if you would, I’ll maid to your merman.

With denizens deep down we’ll both discover

World worth hiding in, as all was meant,

Come, my love, and find me in these waters,

If you do, no mayday need be sent.

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Depends On Your Butter

Depends what you want, I suppose,

Doesn’t it,

Kids with a conscience

Or count,

Counting the pennies,

Own fortune,

Or cognisant of those

Doing without.

Depends where your

Bread has been buttered,

If jam was an option or not,

If pieces fae windaes was favoured

As three square or four with the drop.

Depends on so many factors,

Depends on memory, I guess,

Depends on whether

You’re fortuned

And want for others no less.

Depends on trying and failing,

On seeing failure as lessons well learned,

Depends on hope, love and sharing,

So dependent on how your butter was churned.