A young girl got out of bed ,
It was cold and dark outside .
The rains pattered on her window frame ,
so hard it made her cry another wasted harvest
as the years have gone by .

But she just knelt and quietly prayed to her Father up above for ,
Just for enough food to eat from Gods heavenly store of love .

And so with many others waited for that harvester to call ,
went to sing their hearts out at the church their and local hall .

Filled with stacks of hay on either side and saw dust on the floor ,
for each year the rains came .


And each year wheat and corn grew out in the furthest field of all .
where the sun shone ,
then rained ,
Just enough to harvest every one .

Each year first the aha of golden corn ,
each year a grain of wheat
Each year Gods provisions grew so the town could eat .

Each. year  a  hearty song was sung ,
by each and every one .
The wheat and corn were then brought into that Church ,
Untill the summer came along .
filled with love and happiness each golden corn of grain .

Then sow the winds where devils knock on barn doors ,
where demons prowl ,
Yet every night ,
a little girls prayers they never bark too loud

The skies and trees are sown in falling leaves ,
their branches thimbles break .
And so the moon takes back this hour my dear old granny. spake .

So each cloud that passes O  is filled with spite and hate ,
and every sunlit boat that crosses every lake ,
is my every thought that dreamers make ,
and  dreams I’m not too late .

Yet  the skies are growing darker ,
and your boat is yet as far ,
and so  my dreams of seeing you are now hidden. by a star .

But Granny’s words my old gran read when I was just a kid ,
spoke of crystal streams and dancing nimphs as the sun caught my eyes .
along with all the things she said .
So along with the many books she read ,
she sung a lullaby .

And so we went a fishing in nets to catch frogs and toads and newts.,
and granny said “ one day you will catch a lady ,
just like you caught that newt “

So I still dream of paradise and all the love she might bring ,
and prayed those darkened clouds won’t cause her boat to sink .

That’s why I’m standing by this pond all alone ,
awaiting for my paradise ,
a falling star ,
holds many dreams ,
and a nimph to show me how far.

Soon my light will end a candle now my only friend ,
but this letter I now must write ,
must come to an end ,
and so
will be sent into this night .

On horse drawn carriages with a lanterns aglow , ,
at last  one last chance as my coach with ghost riders at its  helm ,
ride forth far away ,
far far away from here .

Abandon not of love or hope ,
for what I have written will find my love .
My dying words to my long lost soul ,
“Let death come quickly or in haste quicken the blow .”

And if I should die in this most wretched estate ,
pray my soul will forgive me it’s fate ,
for where it has gone ,
I think it too late ,
no mortal should ever go .
Pray my spector  will find my withered friend .for I have been most unkind ,
for it to think i would leave it behind.

For this letter I write is wet with my tears ,
of how I have hurt it for many a year .


So it departed without a sound ,
before they lay me in the ground .
Goodbye then my love ,
for  men have come ,
to break down my door ,
Oh tidderly thumb ,
be it no more .

They lay me down ,
they check my pulse ,
and close my eyes ,
and so leave my bones to rest .
with the worms and vermin that might feed on its flesh .

So goodnight my soul my pen runs dry ,
I guess this is my final goodbye .
For my body now without a friend ,
Will rot in soil no one will tend .
Their weeds will grow and brambles take ,
forgotten forever ,to the ground.

They speak of winter as if the world has come to an end,
and so the Tudor houses are bolted up again .
For just as the sunlight dims on tops of hills and mountain streams ,,
on Cold winters and stormy nights .
Where some poor sod is chained to the walls of Bedlam hall ,
and all he sees from dawn to dusk  is darkness
and .
rats that crawl as  vermin ,their new found paradise .
So faint the fair lady’s breast that beats and finds no Nobel knight at all ,
just servitude to some wretched soul who knows no better hense ,
For into this world I was born .
The cruelest winters when rivers froze ,
and stay dogs  dug up just ice and snow ,
and wailed mercyfully into the night .for                  Bbbbbb.            there was no food in the lader ,
no mutten  or bread to eat ,
no work for life was harder than anyone could dare to think or speak .  And so many cruelty of which they did not understand ,
behind the walls of sanity ,
Is lost to every man ,
for silence feeds its  ghosts in years and every way it can .

locked doors and silent walls when love is not a guest .
But we embrace what can’t be known ,
Gods love and joy and peacefulness

A soldier returned  from the war ,
on a train with many many  more ,
Into Waterloo station ,
rode ,
Pillows of smoke as loved ones awaited ,
as he stepped  out of his carriage to the gate ,
Onto Platform twenty one .
Past many lovers with their soldiers brave ,
walked  down that platform to see his mum .

Past the fallen the wounded souls ,
who braved the war for all its folly
and tin *** gold .

Past the falling of the years ,
Through countless others who matter not .

His arms out wide spread like English meadows of cows and fields ,
right up to his mother he ran ,
as if in those ainchent. foreign lands ,
were never ever seen .

But she just stood there with tears in her eyes ,
showing a photograph of him  to anyone who walked on by .
The soldier screamed look mom I am home ,”
but she didn’t see him how ever hard she tried ,
and she kept on looking even though he was right there at her side .

There was a gate. at Waterloo. Station which many soilders  Passed on through ,
home from the war ,
but none of them were  you .
Passionately  kissing their loved ones from long distant shores ,
Life just passed me by that day,
just like many others  I had never seen before ..

And the steamy ,acrid smell of diesel ,
that brought a tear to my eye ,
that choking ,the stench of death ,
as others just walked on by .
have you seen my son ?
and I asked every one ,
what have they done ?
Not even a letter ,
or a note ,
I could trace .

I walked past soldiers some are dead some barely alive ,
Just to look into their eyes ,
yet none can compare to what now wells up inside .

Missing that’s how I now think of you ,
you went to the war ,
and never returned,
not in a coffin ,
or a grave ,
or in a hug or a kiss ,
you’re cold hands I could feel and touch ,
now I can’t even warm them up ,
Is something I will miss .

Just missing ,
that’s how I think of you ,
the door bell  rings,
and when it does ,
I think of you .

I. watched  you sleeping ,
so Peacefully  as deaths dark curtains fell ,
When veils are drawn unto thy brow ,
and the watcher waits ,
a spectors parade of many souls ,
one by one .

You looked so peaceful sleeping when I said my final goodbye,
So peaceful sleeping when something caught my eye .

For It was a silence I could not mend ,
for you would never rise again ,
and have blood pump through those beautiful veins ,
a heart pump to you’re many organs again .

Yet something cought my eye ,
not a splinter or a fly ,
could ever feel that droplet down my cheek ,
fall on your lips so dry .


Cold is you’re coffin
Yet how joyless  you’re fate ,
that two lovers should part ,
as you’re soul leaves as like a ship sails away ,
I feel it ,
too late .

And all is left the calling of the birds ,
and the crashing of waves against the harbours walls ,
For the watcher sees each silent soul ,
pass far away ,
as the candel blows out ,
he sees them all .