If Mika is like her Mother
The world is a better place,
If Mika looks like her Mother
Then surely, she has a a beautiful face;
And if Mika learns from her Mother
She will live in a state of grace.

For the world is a twisted place,
Demons lurk within.
Crimes hidden behind gentle smiles.
One wrong step,
And a grave dug beside.
To trust or not?
A question mark remains.
Here I rest my case....

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In between the greying
and the silvering
work and life
the sombre brooding of time
and the lull after the storms
poetry crept upon me
word by word
phrase by phrase
in a metaphor
letters from the heart
filling voids of loneliness
with welcome solitude

In the afternoon
Below a grey blue sky
I hear the chatter
Of the magpies.
And they talk in bird talk
In words unknown to me
As they bob their little heads
By the amaltas tree.
Glad I am to hear them
I listen carefully
Happy to be in their -
wondrous company

The copper bells glisten
Swaying in the sunshine
I pause as I listen
To the tinkling
Of the wind chimes

In the distance, they ring
A gentle melody -
I hear their songs
The unsaid words they sing

How sweet is their music
Sweet the joy they bring
Such is the wonder -
The magic of little things