Caro Ness Author

Thoughts and musings


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You Are The One

Your laugh is fat and fills my soul,
The two of us giggling’s a perfect whole,
For you I’d walk from pole to pole,
Because you are the one.

I go weak when I hear your voice,
Your presence makes my heart rejoice,
It’s you, there is no other choice,
Because you are the one.

I sense it when you walk in a room,
Emotions well in a giant flume,
My pulse rate quickens, my heart goes boom,
Because you are the one.

I love your perfume, love your scent,
I believe you’re heaven-sent,
Time with you is time well spent,
Because you are the one.

Being with you is a wonderland,
It’s an adventure, and it’s grand,
I’m happy to simply hold your hand,
Because you are the one.

You’re my lover, you’re my muse,
Each day with you’s a giant schmooze,
You’re my treasure, how can I lose?
Because you are the one.

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A Role Model

Oh, dear papa, would you stretch by degrees,
Because I’ve a bout of the serious munchies,
I’m far too little to reach that cheese,
But, oh, dear papa, can you reach it please?

Oh, dear papa, are you tall enough?
To reach that meat that’s covered in ‘puff’,*
I feel the need to overstuff,
Oh, dear papa, do prove you’re tough!

Oh, dear papa, you’re my star, true blue,
And hero, oh, and role model too,
So, I beg you, claw me down the stew,
Oh, dear papa, I love you!
*puff = puff pastry

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A Perfect Whole

A perfect geometric whole,
Fragile,
Transparent,
Delicate,
Each exquisite piece that forms the circle,
Clinging tenaciously to a central point.
If I hold this up and blow,
Soft, so soft,
Each gossamer light seed,
Will carry on the wind,
And plant itself to create,
Initially,
A burst of sunshine yellow,
Oft maligned,
Which becomes another
Perfect geometric whole…

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Moon Across The Bay

A majestic urban landscape,
Tall, twinkling, tactile somehow,
And the full moon,
Rising above it,
Lighting a path,
Across the bay.
The water, stained,
All crushed purples and violets,
And a line of light across it…
A single, solitary stork,
Kept lonely vigil,
On the moon, across the bay.

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Low Tides

The boat was beached at low, low tide,
It tipped forlornly to one side,
The sea retreated way off shore,
Perhaps a hundred leagues or more
There was a sheen across the sand,
And an apricot sky, painted by God’s hand.

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