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Juno Jun 2019
In those hard times
I did love thee not.
But now I doth
At which hour I see thee rot.

Oh, Guildford, I realize
The thought yond we were meant to beest
Didst not crosseth mine own mind.

Nine days queen
Didst weaken our bond
I had not the timeth
To knoweth we hath grown fond
everly May 2017
where it seemed like i’d pick a
flower for every
worry
every anxiety
every flaw i saw
but didnt have.
The few succulents
would
soothe my nine and a half year old
mind.
the cool wind
that would uptake
my body when i was
flying
in the local park swings.
i swore i was soaring.
i’d close my eyes
and if i could just lean
to touch the blossoming tree over the gate
and at least pull a little flower bud off-
id look like a real angel.
tudor park,
where id run
sweat beading all over,
stopping at moments
panting like a big dog to cool off and then
I’d start all over again.
forgetting about how sick i felt
forgetting the big news i heard
about my mom
forgetting i’d have to be a
big sister for the third time.
just running.
not thinking.
getting lost at times
and being fully content with it.
i want to go back to these days
at tudor park
tudor park,
when my dad was done
playing basketball
i remember,
he’d asked me what i’d been doing
by the bed of flowers
I’d stay silent,
gathering a flower out of the soil
one by one
and he’d say i’d turn out to be just
like my mother.
I have her eyes.
He didnt know how right he was.
Stanley Wilkin May 2017
Honour

They have used me and I have served.
How could I not?
They made me what I am.
A servant to their cause.

I’ve seen Queens crowned.
Threats of invasion from afar.
Overseen their communications.
Remained steadfast
As a good subject does.

I serve Queen and country.
I provide shelter for the ******
And light for her successors.
I trembled as planes flew above
And celebrated as they flew no more.

I’ve watched from afar, as the great playwright worked,
As theories and principles that would shape the world
Were committed to paper for forever more.
I’ve seen evil and good, hatred and love
Entangled in their eternal battle
From high above.

And as I waned, as I began to fall
Like all the Queen’s servants must do
Even those that had once stood so tall
Above it all, yet never apart
I can fade happy knowing this oak has honoured thy ******.
Goodbye London, my one true love.
BY MY SON-STEPHEN FRANCIS

— The End —