My life seems like a bubble
gently drifting, no trouble
A delicate, soft bubble of air
filled with love and extra care.
This thing so free, so agile
so bouncy so fragile.
A gentle sneeze
it changes course in the breeze.
Filled with colour from a rainbow
You know it had a certain glow.
People stand and admire it floating
its golden coating, they were gloating
As it would delicately drift
Sometimes a smile would lift
it - it immersed in being free
Then it turned to look at me
and I heard a pop
I saw it drop
I feared the worst
my bubble had burst
Just a smidgen
It was a grey pigeon
A rat in the kitchen
I asked it to stop
Like a Spanish bull in a china shop
Full of hot air
just to compare
This bull
was full
of hot air.

There is an owl on the gate and he is singing “tu whit tu whoo”
He is not sure whether he is at Chelsea or indeed at Kew.
He knew here there were well to do types
He also knew that bamboo was green and had stripes.
There were ladies dressed in white Broderie Anglais
Most of which were covered in Italian Spaghetti Bolognese.
Somebody said “Oh I do really beg your pardon
I do like a good nosh up in your garden”.
Some preferred a patch with movement and flow
on the other hand stuff hadn’t chance to grow.
Some folk needed style, imagination and some shape
And all that some required was a simple landscape.
One chap needed mud and a garden full of sweet roses
Rather a contrast but his stuff just decomposes.
Most were impressed with the Chelsea Flower Show
And they all shot off to see what they could plant and grow.
Magnificent!

All day he nibbles, and for Sunday lunch
does nothing but crunch and then munch.
The caterpillar, as strong as an ox
as sly as the old red fox on a Christmas box.
He wants all the trimmings like roasted beef
to munch with his white cabbage leaf.
But what on earth does that matter
all he wants to do in life is to get fatter.
But then the fairy of everything good brings
me a beautiful butterfly with silky wings.

What a beautiful soul this fairy has
She's as pretty as the flower itself.
She has a sense of humour second to none
And definitely will not belong on any shelf.

If there was ever a fairy more confused
then it is this one, wrapped in chains.
The chains are made from daisy petals
which keep her dry when it rains.
and as she as used all of the petals
she is one sort of a funny mess.
What she will do for shelter if it rains
I would say is anyone's guess.
She would not worry her pretty head
about trivial things like that, oh no
She would have fun sitting in a puddle of rain
and just letting herself go.

Colours merge into one
Then shoot off into the sky
Azures, raspberry and cherry clouds
mind their business floating by.
There does not seem to be a *** of gold
Or treasure or anything else for that matter
Just leaves gathered neatly in a pile
with no inclination to scatter.
Just stillness, a calm, a sense of well being
Even the river running alongside has a gentle flow.
No raindrop dripping on my head, no sun to shine
just peace and quiet at the foot of the rainbow.

Love is a Beautiful Thing

The day you placed
Upon my finger, a ring
I realised then and I know now
Love is a beautiful thing.
You said I am pretty
Like a butterfly’s wing
My world is colourful because
Love is a beautiful thing.
You make my world rock
You make my heart sing
You are amazing in every way
And love is a beautiful thing.
You are my soul mate and
You to me are my everything.
I can’t live without you
Love is a beautiful thing.
My things are precious
My love is for you is real
These things I have said are beautiful
And this is exactly how I feel.

Beneath The Mist
Every little leaf,  bronzed around the edge
Every little scarlet berry hidden beneath
Is touched by the morning mist
And the beauty is beyond belief.
Around street corners
Hovering like some alien being
Cobwebs frozen in time
See their producer fleeing.
Teeth chattering, kneecaps knocking
Scarves covering an icy breath
Birds eggs shattered on a footpath
An unborn bird takes an early death
Car tyres crunching on a blackened surface
Sprinkled with salt to get a good grip
An elderly person’s walking stick gave way
Not much good now with a broken hip.
The morning mist, has its drawbacks
Danger hidden under black ice
Keep the eyes peeled for their are traps
Think carefully and think twice.

Am I Really Dreaming?

I go to sleep
My mind drifts
I count sheep
Weight shifts.
On one side then the other
Hours slip away
If it’s not one thing it’s another
Revealing another boring day.
There is a movie in my mind
The same actors, scenery, speech
It is on constant rewind
Normality out of reach.
Am I dreaming, am I awake?
This seems so very real.
Tell me please for goodness sake
This situation is not ideal.

Looking through and reading poems
here on our wonderful site
I am so proud to be here with you all
Where else could it be so right.

You are all all brilliant with the written word
Each and every letter placed just so.
You put smiles on faces, bring tears to eyes
I know if I want cheering up I haven't far to go.

Sitting with a multicoloured smile
Rising over my head
Is something to definitely rave about
Would you believe a word I said?
Sitting under a rainbow?
Which fairy tale did you get that from?
Telling lies makes your nose grow!
But I am, I am sitting beneath a glow
a glow which offers pots of gold
My dreams have come true today
and I go forward with good luck I'm told.
It is raining I grant you and the sun is out
An array of colour shines down on me
My wings fell off in the downpour
But I can replace them for free.
I am a guardian angel and I see colour
My rainbows are around me and indeed you
So I do sit beneath rainbows and bring joy
I know it is rather weird but it is true.

When I stop and sit for a while
and think exactly what I do have
well that brings a smile to my face
because what I do have money cannot buy.
I have friends that care, are always by my side
through thick and thin, in stormy weathers.
They make my dark times bright
they make rainy days seem nice.
They turn clouds into sunshine
Make my days worthwhile.
My friends mean everything to me
And now at a trying time in my life
I can smile because they are around me.
My friends, without them where would I be.

Link your fingers and curl the bones
to your soul around those not known
Link your dreams that you have
and show the love that has grown.

Just a glimpse of the bright side of life
lifts one's spirit to the highest degree
Find your inner peace, your soul
and set your goal for eternity.


Just a smile does wonders for the heart
Just a giggle releases time you hadn't got
Dig deep within yourself and allow hope
shovel away bad to reveal the comical plot.

Just a smile, come on you can smile
Smile for me,  show your thought
The man will not judge but will melt
and like forever the hope he has caught.

Just a smile.

When I think of the colour pink I dream
Dream of sugar spinning to loud music at the fair.
Pink dresses with tiny pink socks on babies
with vivid blue eyes and golden blond hair.
WhenI think of blue I think of sand, pebbles and castles
made from dry, hot sand with a blue sky draping overhead.
The blue in our flag, standing proud over the palace
The stitching on my blanket around my bed.
When I think of yellow,oh I dream of lands far away
tropical beetles, butterflies and giant leaves.
Shores made from ice cream and cherries,
stuff that actually nobody believes.
When I see lilac and lavender it reminds me of peacocks
parading their anger with  beauty for all to admire.
Ribbons at Christmas draping the fireplace
and waving to the heat and glow of the open fire.
What do you see?

A door mouse, as cute as fresh cherry pie
Perched on a dandelion time blowing machine
Blowing moments away for free, do not ask why!
But isn't it the cutest thing you have ever seen?

Maybe I looked in the wrong compartment
Wrong shelf, not the same drawer or place
Did I go to the wrong store at the wrong time
There is no smile on my happy looking face.
Just sadness behind the smile, full of woe
Mondays 'child is fair of face did they say
I wish I was born on the day with far to go
Yes I have a face to move mountains,
turn heads and light up the darkest of room
But that is hardly a fitting moment when the
old life is full of doom and endless gloom.
Where is the love that was promised on the tin
the shelf that said love was in my palm of the hand
I don't have it it went away, it sank, it dissolved
Like falling rocks, grinding to a halt like stubborn sand.
Where is this so called love, is it gift wrapped?
With a bow on it that says "open me now". Where?
I have searched on every possible shelf, hidden corner.
All that I found was a note with "I do not care".

We all live in a world
Where fairy tales could come true.
Rivers that flow like caramel
Watercolour skies painted blue.
Strawberries hang from peacocks tails
Sea green, berries and ducks in teams
Sailing with cigars in their beaks
on crispy clouds and coconut dreams.

I look around me
and the bird wears
a bright red vest.
I notice that the man
in the street wears red
close to his chest.
It is his heart and it is golden
It  has red passing through it
and there is a light he's holding.
It is a flame, a red flame
burning bright, it is red
The heart breaks with his tears
and shines like golden thread.
Who is to blame?
Everything turns to red.
When it is too hot to handle
Get out the kitchen he said

Oh it swirls around
Words merging into one
One mix of loveliness
When the day is done.
Singing a song in my sweet head
Blood pumping to the beat
My heart is that drum
and my toes tap on my feet.
If I did not have this
This facility, this tune
I would be a shambles
a fading light in a moon.
My day would be dark
filled with worries and the like
No hopes or dreams imaginable
No bell to ring on the bike.
No stars would shine,
No glories to be
Just worries that are mine
But I dont have that
I have a song to sing
A star to shine
a bell to ring.
I have hope and I have glory
My dreams are about to happen
I have an end to my story.
I have a song to sing.

I have music in my head
A beat of a particular sound
Is it my blood rushing through my veins
Strumming my chords or have I found
some other percussion in me instead.
Whether I trail downstream to the pool
or to the purple prickly moors
My music goes with me
Beside me and behind closed doors.
It sings to me heart, a rhythm downloading
my thoughts to the breeze.  Wafting to the wind
blasting in the lanes as I go off roading
in my little jeep with rickety floors.
Bumping and grinding it does
behind closed doors.

Dressed like a waiter was he
In black, white and blue
He thought everything was free
He thought everything was true.

Our life is like a colourful conveyor belt
Dealing with a deck of cards dealt
Some of us have a desire to know
What is life like across the rainbow?
Somewhere midpoint beyond the glow
Little bits and bobs are shed from the rainbow.
Coloured confetti for a new man and wife
Big bright balloons for a new life,
In this magic box of tricks
It gets tossed to become a six
Then when the dice is rolled
It disappears into the *** of gold.

Holding a new born baby
Close in your warm strong arms
Baby food dripping down your shoulder
And the constant ringing of sleep alarms.
A joy to behold.
Walking the dog in the dead of night
It alerted you at two in the morning.
Waiting at bedroom door with lead
No fuss just a wet sloppy warning.
A joy to behold.
You just sit down with an evening meal
After a hard day’s work – the ‘phone rings
A sales talk on something you do not want
Slam the receiver down, and then say nice things.
A joy to behold.
Stuck in traffic when you are in a rush
All you want to do is get there and back.
You know something is going to happen
The chap behind you didn’t see you – whack!!!
A joy to behold.
You fetch your loved one from the supermarket
With a thousand bags for you to carry.
She has spent all your wages in a flash
And you wonder about the girl you did marry.
A joy to behold.
Watching your garden turn to weeds
After a heavy fall of the never ending rain.
Pulling them out with roots the size of parsnips
Your back aching, pulled a muscle once again.
A joy to behold. True a joy to behold.

"It's like an oven in there"
The cake would say.
The trouble I have had today.
Blasting heat, smashing my tin
Which the goo is sitting in.
Tapping to see if I have got
A soggy bottom. If you please.
If I had, I certainly would not
Broadcast it.  Keep it clean.
Scraping the bowl,  oh I would love to do that.
Fingers and spoon to lick
Magic box of tricks
That cake mix.
No one has touched me
Not been anywhere near me.
Not even a try
I wonder why.

As the butcher writes “sale” with his bit of chalk
Shoppers watch with eyes just like a hawk
They all flew
to the front of the queue
To get their half price "special buy" pork.

A  father is support for his family
The strength to carry on.
The power in a backbone
And most of all he is fun.
There is always a smile from a dad
when things go wrong and they do.
But in a dad there lies a strength
and other good things too.
You can confide in a dad
He will listen and will not judge.
He will protect, shield from harm
and he will never hold a grudge.
He will be proud and walk down the aisle
with his little Princess holding his arm.
His heart is always full of love
and he is always relaxed and calm.
His sons are the apple of his eye
His name carried forward once more
Dads are programmed with a special dance
a Dads dance that they do on the dance floor.
All these things, in their own little shed
Their house is their castle, what more can I say
But to my own father, my lovely dad, my friend
I wish you and all dads around the world
A happy Father's Day.

The bells rang out from the oncoming van
The Ice Cream Van it was, for all to hear.
Packed full of runny sauces enticed the man
To have the biggest ice cream and that was clear.
He delved into his pocket, oh you could feel the anticipation
The children were getting restless behind him and began to toss
abuse at the man looking for loose change,  the realisation
that it was a pointless exercise and it was his loss.
"Come on, get a move on" shouted the kids from behind
The man shuffled sadly away with tears in his eyes.
He plonked miserably on the park bench only to find
A little boy with feet dangling holding a nice surprise.
He had bought a big fat juicy ice cream and held it high
"Do you want this, I saw what happened, you can have mine"
Well the man looked at the boy and started to cry
To take this off the boy would surely be a crime.
But what the heck, he'd only get another, so he grabbed it
His tongue straight away licked like it had not licked before
"Oh good grief" thought the boy "he's enjoying every bit"
"he's behaving like a kid and his tongue will be sore"
But the man went at his prize hammer and tongue
Like he'd never seen an ice cream before and was in a flap
The boy became suspicious and thought it was wrong
But the man had a frown because the ice cream was in his lap!
There is a moral to this story if you can find it!

They scatter themselves freely to the breeze
Shaking their heads, rocking with the beat
seeds creep under the roots of nearby trees
tucking themselves into cool soil out of the heat.
The white against the green and orange with blue
I'd never tire of this, even if I was to be asked again
Marigolds and daisies - what a very splendid view
My childhood revisits making the endless daisy chain.
Marigolds remind me of the sunsets we used to see
Oranges splashed over and above the sky
with toes dangling in the cool of the sea
watching the world in my oranges and whites go by.

Whilst on his daily walk through the town
The dog stood and noticed something with a frown.
Where's the fur, the brown stuff, there's nothing there
He was sure he was born with some kind of hair.
He noticed other dogs had fetching fur of different styles
He knew this because of his constant treking for miles
Every flipping day and every night just walking
With his blood boiling owner, fuming and talking
Being dragged through fog, puddles and the like
Once his lead was tied to the handle bars of his bike
He worried once he would be tied to the car
Being paraded along because he would not walk that far.
And through all of this he has hat, scarf and a warm coat
What do I have, nothing but a strip of leather on my throat.
Nothing on my paws in the snow and ice and the rain
He does nothing but moan, I don't get chance to complain.
That night Rover crept into his room and began to dig
Bingo he thought that'll do, he'd found an old wig.
So he managed to fling it into the air to land on his head
The warmth it provided, oh yes, he buried it in his bed
He lay on it that night and admired it from within
Little bits or hair sticking out from his wrinkly skin.
Next time he takes me out for a stroll, I'll be a new dog
Through the pouring rain, sunshine and thick dense fog.

The anticipation, the excitement, the passion
Heart pounding like it's going out of fashion

The magic,  the memories it will bring
White dress, white pearls, golden ring.

Choirs, flower girls with a youthful smile
Archways to walk under and pose for awhile

Growing old together, till death do they part
Still the first kiss as an effect on the old heart

It still beats with a passion, but a slower pace
and the lips taste the same from the same face

The feelings, the vows that they kept are still the same
It is the look of love, the taste that ignites the flame.

The first kiss was recorded on the oak tree in the park
where they both shall lie eternally when it gets dark

Always together, forever that was written in stone
Hand in hand they lie and they will never lie alone.

His hand held her waist
Sweeping her around the dance floor
It was movements done in haste
and she is begging for more.

Their legs do not tire, moving to the beat
Their eyes met lovingly at the very start
Their smile is working in unison with their feet
Each and every muscle playing its part.

Round and round she is swept
Securing the romance in a lover's knot
Making sure the special moments are kept
and the music is not forgot.

Young love - oh the memories come flooding back.
Holding hands giggling at chosen secrets
Secrets that to this day are still worthy of a smile
The warmth of that moment is captured forever.
Captured in my golden heart locked, kept safe.
The first kiss - butterflies flapping around.
I remember those feelings, nice feelings.
Drawing his face towards mine, the anticipation
The excitement, that too is held by my golden key.
Isn't love sweet.  First times, lasting times, good times.
Don't ever let these feelings go. Keep them. Savour them
Because when your life is full of grey hair and complete
You will treasure golden feelings when love was sweet.

She was a loyal friend, now she has gone
Gone for good, that is until we meet again.
She was my painting friend, we used to sit
and watch the poppies dance in the rain.
We'd get out our brushes and paint
we applied water to our paper to drench.
We'd watch drops of rain dangle from the petal
and then felt the water in our laps from the bench.
She would smile and we flooded in the colour
The creases of the petal fell to its shadows hue
The rain water flooded the path where the poppies stood
and our paper and laps were suitably wet through.
The poppy outstretched itself and shook to the sky
unravelling itself and tossing dew across the way
Our paper dried with its colour wash correct
It was Betty's poppy and it is here to stay.

As we go through our life,
we record events in our mind.
shelves labelled accordingly
slotted in our brain to find
the next time we care to recall.
There are shelves labelled
"not so good" and these are doubts
which cause anxiety to raise its ugly head.
Thoughts which we could well do without
Re-living events that we all somehow dread.
Then there are the spectacular shelves.
Shelves that bring tears of happiness and joy.
Celebrations of marriage, confetti and then
perhaps the birth of a little girl or a boy.
A son or daughter, a life long treasure.
Then there is things relating to this that
go on this shelf to later bring pleasure.
These shelves are the chapters in our head
Chapters that are worth having another look.
Whether they are good or bad, they are there
Each day has a part to play in your own book..

Their heads bent low, they slept
Through wind, rain and hail.
Ice bombarding their delicate petal
Sheilded like a fragile veil.
But this veil is tough and robust
Red poppies dot the sky line
Like true grit like a magnificent statue
*****, long standing and very fine.
Across ploughed earth on the horizon
Across vale, parks and the hedge row
On dry sand on the beaches
and on the British lawn that we mow.
They wave their orange heads
we're here and nowhere we shall go
Because we are here to stay; the Poppy
Scatter their seeds and we shall sow.

Tough times require tough measures
Gone are everyday unexpected pleasures.
Struggle, nothing but struggling to make ends meet
Keep the belly full and the landlord sweet.
Nothing in the pocket for nice things any more
Thank goodness they don't have to sleep on the floor.
Yet. That might be the case sooner than they think
Money wise, little hope, they are on the brink.
Unless they win some lottery, or unexpected prize.
Fat chance of that, nothing comes their way,no surprise.
But today the postman with a whistle left a card on the mat
He stumbled towards it with a frown, could be this or that.
He turned it over and it said scratch off the foil
Another junk mail, it made his blood begin to boil.
He threw it in the bin, but she fished it out and put it in a tin.
"It'll do for scrap when we need paper it is just waste"
But he reached into the tin and rubbed his head in haste.
His fingernail began to remove the foil bits one by one
The numbers he'd revealed matched and indicated he'd won.
His body spun, tears poured from his eyes, he couldn't speak
His hands had the shakes and now his knees had gone weak
"Look" he croacked,  "have I won".She snatched the slip
Her mind went crazy,world went black and water she did sip.
It appeared they had won one hundred thousand pounds
He kept saying it, slapping his own face with a hurt it sounds.
She had blacked out again, a crumpled mess on the floor
He had his best vest on and had shot out of the door.
To claim what was rightfully his, his much loved prize.
He'd returned his pockets bulging, he had big thighs
Grinning like a Cheshire Cat, singing a happy song
They had catapulted up the social ladder all day long
Drinking champagne, dining with a bag of fish and chips
They had hope, a song, and tomato sauce all round their lips.
Tough times had gone.

THE SCARECROW
The scarecrow is bored playing the same old game
Cold wet clothes hanging from a wooden frame.
He has no choice but to stand perfectly still
Scaring all the bird s at the top of the hill.
A crow calls out from under the hedgerow
“Catch me, scare me old wooden scarecrow”
But the scarecrow was staring across at a stable
As he had noticed there’s food laid on a table.
“Make haste little bird and fly over to the meadow
Bring me some nice juicy berries from the mistletoe”
“Please little bird, hurry now and be on your way
And can you bring m back some of the lovely hay”
But when the crow returned he found him asleep
He had become bored counting sheep.
The Crow lay beside his feet to keep himself warm
And needed shelter from the oncoming storm.
The scarecrow awoke and looked at his shoe
And at last had found a friend he could talk to.

My senses are on fire
Now,  how do I explain?
You see I never tire
from listening to the rain.

The gentle fall of every little drop
plopping gladly on my windowsill.
It is the splash,  the plip and the plop
and the dark of the clouds perfectly still.

The fresh smell it brings revives
Each and every living thing.
It is that makes the garden survive
and allows my heart to sing.

Blue and grey met up one day
in the middle of the ocean
They had a meeting with the waves
and questioned the commotion.
Why the big splash?
Will there be any more?
They watch as white horses
gallop and race to the shore.
The white horses (the waves) of the sea
gather speed, froth salt and foam
rolling, dancing to and fro as they
race to the finish line at their home.
Cascading over barriers
peeling flesh to the absolute core
Wild, pure white horses sprinkle their faith
as they graze on their prize at the shore.

Once it waited, for her
Now it is back again
This time it is her
She has no pain.
No, not this time
The Lord took it away
The butterfly returns
in the hope it might stay.
But it came for him
She waits by the door.
His eyes close, the butterfly rises
and returns like it did before.
This is written for my very dear friend Denise.

Mints, Sages and Dill greet me
as I trample along the way
Stones hide under my toes
settling down to stay.
But they are pea pebbles
Not sharp, but rounded and small.
I try to shake them free
but they are not going at all.
Lavender and the Lilac grin
They have stones embedded too.
They long for the rains to come
drenching their roots wet through.
Basil and Thyme are not surprised
They have been through this before
The Violets have issues to fry
as the Pansies are first at the door.
When a whiff of bother shows its head
you can rely on the ***** to be there
Nothing gets past this little chap
So to the tricksters please beware.
The herbal path offers stories
one gets carried away along the path
to the little mouse nibbling like mad
to the wren bobbing in his mud bath.
There is not a day that goes by
when I do not dawdle on the stones
the crunchy noise it makes soothes my soul
and puts life in the well worn bones.

As we steer towards the end of May
When the bluebells wither and die
The daffodils have long gone sadly
The days of Spring go lovingly by.
We look forward to the end of Spring
and Summer is a beautiful word
Long days, warm nights to look forward to
The singing of the early morning bird.
Sunlight streaming through your curtains
The warmth of the day settles your mind
The promise  of early June brings hope and peace
Summer is such a special time for all mankind.

It is hearing your name mentioned with a smile
It is comfort, trust, loyalty and special moments to share
Giving your last chocolate button to your loved one
and finally it is being with someone  and you care.

Care is such a big word with so few letters
It means everything and it is filled with love
To love is to care and to care is to love
and especially it means the words in the verse above.

Make sure that you hold these vows in your heart
keep them safe and stick by them, it is your world
Your world would not be the same without these
To keep your happiness you have to keep your word.

The old fishing boat shiny, worn yet proud
Had many an old fish bone scraped across its deck
Heard stories that would make your hair curl
and had seen weather at its worst but what the heck.
Had seen all the fish available from all the seas
nothing would surprise this old girl anymore.
Had the strength to carry on whatever the gale
Grin and bear it or go as you have gone before.
Its engine, had seen some time in its old life
struggling through seas as high as waves could get
Through ice as thick as an island so as to speak
and the new fishing boats wince if they get wet.
They would not last five seconds in conditions
like my fishermen have served thought the boat
Well if it could think that is what it would think
They look delicate and I dare say they would float.
But now the old fishing boat was being admired
stroked lovingly by tourists with cameras and tales.
Ice cream accidentally smeared on the deck
With its worn polished look and ragged sails.
But it was proud, and so it should be
For the fish it has fed folk, fishermen it had sailed
But now it had a place in tourist's heart, the town
It was admired, photographed and now emailed.
A buyer with plenty of money and hope in his heart
had bargained and won his bid. It was now his dream
to sail the boat with children on board and parents
sightseeing on board complete with a holiday team
Dressed in navy and white striped with straw hat
No fishing lines, nets, poles just an orange float.
With a sign that indicated the price of the trip
A retirement, a nice little trip for the fishing boat.

How truth distorts
How lies appear
funny isn't it!

Across the width of the shiny railings
a wooden stick was dragged.
Beneath the beady eye of the peacock
quite a lot of skin sagged.
Through lack of sleep.
The peacock wished he had a penny
for every time he was awoken.
he longed for a decent nap
without the pattern broken.
All he wanted was sleep.
So he became an angry peacock
and showed his venom in his tail
Out shot each and every eye on the feather
a picture of beauty to unveil.
He wanted peace and quiet.
The children delighted in this act
and thought he was putting on a show.
They dragged their sticks furiously
Little did they care or even know.
So the peacock refused to sleep
slumped in a corner forever and a day.
Then came along a peahen dull as dishwater
the peacock was excite, didn't know what to say.
She is dull but I will compensate for that
He shook his feathers to impress.
The little lady strutted by oblivious
thought he was in fancy dress.
Well.