It is snowing petals
of such delicate hue
There is a warmth in the air
and overhead it is just blue.
The fields are carpeted
in a rich deep gold
The woods hold the mauve
so delicately yet so bold.
Spring has sprung
the lambs jump with glee
My green eyes are smiling
as far as they can see,
May, what a wonderful month
A beautiful time of the year
The flowers shake their petals
for the summer is nearly here.

It is my legs
My shopping bag
my companion
My float,
The two oars
My extended arms
Parting the water
In my little rowing boat.
We get there eventually
There are complaints on the way
But we ignore those and soldier on
Loweing the drawbridge in the moat.
Tricky I grant you, in your best frock
No man to help, just me, and my pal.
Keep calm, our motto, or we do rock.
Frothy waters jet up our way
Every now and then
It is like the rivers lets rip
Pulls out its cork to say "when"
Turbulance, oh yes, it is a scary time
The boat behaves like it's on the Irish Sea
Stiff talkings to and patience then it is fine.
We sail to the bank oh its a stone throw away
We disembark like a liner on the ocean
I tie it up to the nearest tree
Walk off through the wood in time for tea.
Piling the two carrier bags on board
It is chocs away into the moat
Back to the castle we go, my home,
To rest, me and my little rowing boat.

I whisper gently in the night
But you do not hear me
I reach out to touch you
But you are never there.
I fill my lungs with stale air
Stale and as dark as the night.

I call you at breakfast time
Would you like coffee or tea?
But there is that silence again
Because you are never here.
I listen for movement but of course
There is nothing at this time.

Do you not know that I am missing you?
Do you not stop and realise this?
At night and in the day
My dreams are empty like my bed at night
Because you are never there
I am missing you.

Pushing
always rushing
being made to go forward
onward
into the light
It was a fight
sometimes.
Crimes
were committed
in the dead of the night.
They came
from above
Offered hope and love
We were misled
we were fed
dreams
so it seems
Misled with a force
Of course
we believed
we were delivered lies
None were wise
We just understood
the best we could.
Driven forward
Die by the sword
we were the jokers of the pack
no turning back
no trump card played
just the suits displayed
Clubs to mark
Diamonds in the dark
hearts on our sleeve
Spades to achieve
nothing.
Jokers move forward.

Is it music to my ears?
Definitely not as it appears.

Your voice is sitting on the border
The right notes are in the wrong order.

I would love to say your voice could pop a balloon
that would be if you were singing the right tune.

Now I am no expert nor a good disc jockey
but then you are not a singer a Pavarotti.

Your voice croaks when you sing along
everything seems to be coming out wrong.

No do not start singing yet, if you please
I have to stuff my ears with bits of cheese.

I know it would be better if you had a voice
But then wouldn't we all if we had a choice.

Lots of splutterings, clearing the throat
What came out was a perfect, beautiful note.

The voice of an Angel, well ******* down
Now he was wearing an upside down frown.

Sing of sing for me, let it be revealed
Turned out it was a crow singing in the field.

Music to my ears.

Twinkle, twinkle little star
how I wished I had a better car
One that actually gets around
and drives, makes me proud.
One that does as it is told
Not so bossy and not so old.
one that if the button is pressed it should go
not one that all it needs is a jolly good tow.
So twinkle, please twinkle little star
and bring me a better working car.

My heart
I gave away
it was red
on display
for all to see
on my head
were my brain should be
It drained
through an old vein
it rained
never again
my heart now beats
to a happier tune
and it meets
very soon.

I have an empty heart
yet it weeps.
I cant cry
I have no tears
They are dry.
Yet my heart weeps.

New trinkets, new toys
life's little treasures
stuffed in a favourite drawer.
Get broken eventually
parts are to hand
somehow, somewhere.
Grandma's stories,
stored in an old brain
But she remembers
the finer details we forget.
She recalls everything
and anything.
But nothing lasts forever
Stories get forgotten,
trinkets are misplaced
Over the years
times are forgotten.
What a waste.
Nothing lasts forever.
Our tears, trickle when
times get hard.
But they fade and dry
like the memories in a mind
Sadness does not last forever.
It lasts whenever and for a day.
When times are recalled.
Nothing lasts forever.

When the apple logs are burning
one evening in this chilly November.
The crackling of the fire glows
with the rosy crimson ember.
The chestnuts sit proudly
Their chocolate coloured skin roasting
next to the bread, freshly baked
caramalising the sugars, toasting.
It is your ultimate wish
Your craving, your desire
to sit warming your little frozen toes
by the amber spitting fire.
The cinnamon sticks warming
the nutmeg spice
makes your heart sing
along with your whiskey in ice.
Your blue eyes focus
on your cold, damp window
and your rosy cheeks smile
at the crisp blanket of snow.
A Robin chirps jealous at your warmth
Your cosy body snuggled
He wished he could be warm
in his nest cuddled
up to his very best
in her red fluffed up jacket
on her red ochre breast.
He has worms to collect
in his cold yellow beak.
He would do some moaning
if only he could speak.
But the smoke bellows in the chimney
The fire warms the air
The holly berry
as charming as a summer
red hot cherry
dangles brightening the snow.
It is November
Christmas is on its way.
And we have to trudge through the bush
the holly and the ivy make way
for the shoppers crush and rush.
And still the fire burns
with its red hot ember
as we march through the month
to a Christmas December.