Hazel

Hazel and the leaving, and the wine, and the mention of it, and the wondering, is she? Does she? And I scurry back to the original position, and the pains of the day, and my back, and looking for some kind of improvement. And then thinking of tomorrow, and wondering if I should treat in the same way that I treated today, and colours of culture, facing onto me, and again wine, and sleek and kind and laughing. I walk away, and through the door of departure, wishing I could linger, and that this moment could too. And eyes, and the longing, and the ages, and the difference, and the odds, and reality, and this moment, in the now.

Ian K. Paisley

Playing to the gallery, with trumpetting roar, and vitriol, in younger years, where reason and justice hid, your own political party, and your own Calvanistic church, I believe Jean Cauvain, could well have been your closest friend. And there were those surprising stories of the same justice for all, with you, their member of parliament, and your daughter, well she called you a 'saint' and McGuinness, even called you a friend. I call you an enigma, complex and charming, away from the act. Ian K Paisley.