Looking down on the city

From above

The buildings appear blue

Elsewhere a vibrant orange

Light

Life

Traffic

 © Caro Ness 2015 

In our youth

We used to wing walk

Daring aerial acrobatics

In tandem

On biplanes

To give the illusion of 

Walking on air

© Caro Ness 2015 

From the moment

I set foot in Montmartre

My heart belonged there.

From Sacre Coeur

To the artists

Selling their wares.

And best of all

On a hot, hot day

Spending a morning

In a small cafe

With a strong cup of coffee

Or a citron presse

Watching the world go by.

© Caro Ness 2015 

My glasses lying on the beach,

The surf and swell, just beyond my reach,

But if I look in the mirrored reflection there,

I’ll see the surfers up in mid-air.

copyright Caro Ness

It was a stairway to heaven

And made me feel both happy and sad

Sad that my loved ones were way beyond reach

Those that had left me

Happy that, with determination

I could now reach them

© Caro Ness 2015

A living tapestry 

Is what I found

A carpet of blue and white flowers

Stretching as far as the eye could see

  © Caro Ness 2015

The shadows were pooling on the beach
When we set off for the rock.
We could not even see it,
Despite its size,
Because of the morning mist
Rolling in off the sea.
But somehow,
Knowing it was there,
Gave us a sense
Of solidarity,
Security
Rightness.

  © Caro Ness 2015

Photo origin unknown

The sun setting

Into the sea

On a still night

Of dark blue

And the only indication

Of sea not sky

Is darker ripples of water

As the fiery orb

Dies silently into it.

© Caro Ness 2015

 Photo origin not found

The beach is long and it is wide ,

With inlets forming, side to side,

We go down daily, for long walks,

Interspersed with heated talks,

That match the skies as sunset falls,

Fiery, colourful, from summer squalls,

This is my favourite time of day,

When we walk our angst and qualms away.

© Caro Ness 2015

It’s been a long day,

Cutting reeds for my family

But now I’m going home.

Each day is a struggle,

Making ends meet,

But it’s worth it when I get home.

I’ve reponsibilities,

A family to feed,

Waiting, when I get home.

Each day is a struggle,

But my spirits are high,

Because I’ve them, when I get back home.

© Caro Ness 2015

Photo: Back Home by Dede Kalana