I ran my hands through your hair,
beautiful, tangled, and golden
your eyes are warm honey
in the winter,
and in autumn, the color
of fallen leaves,
I like the scattering of freckles
like a starry sky among your
soft, peachy cheeks,
and your smooth, worn hands
full of loving warmth, and care
In moments, I look up to see your
silhouette in the magnificent sunset
drowning the sky behind you,
a spread of pale red and violet
outlining your beautiful body,
and in the pale moonlight,
I love to watch you
dancing, your skin shimmering,
your feet as free as air,
your soul twinkling
among the stars.

At this hour I know it's to late.
For writing and thinking.
Being restless mind spinning.
Words keep on chasing.
Heartbeat is racing.
Controlling my breathing.
In bed so revealing.
I should be dreaming.
Under warm blanket
so appealing.
Eyes are almost closing.
I find myself dozing.
Sweet dreams
before I am sleeping.

My heart awakens each day with a psalm,
Which I will joyfully recite for my King.
A psalm of pure love, a psalm of praise,
Because the Lord means everything to me.

And on my knees I happily speak the words,
Bowing down before his heavenly throne.
Lovingly he accepts what is spoken by lips,
For he knows their melodies are never done.

He saved me from sin’s deep darkened pit,
And from sinking into its tormented hell.
He gave his life as a ransom for me,
And now my heart each day must now tell.

Of his goodness, his love, and tender mercies,
How his loving grace has set me forever free.
How he saved a lowly sinner from certain death,
Giving me his blessing of life I surely need.

And that is why my heart will tell the world
About the precious salvation he alone brings
For he is more valuable than even my own life
Because he means more than this world to me.

This poem was witten by my godfather Hilair Beloc 1870-1953

When I am living in the midlands
That are sodden and unkind
I light my lamp in the evening
My work is left behind
And the great hills of the South Country
Come back into my mind

The great hills of the South Country
They stand along the sea
And its there walking in the high woods
That I could wish to be
And the men that were boys when I was a boy
Walking along with me

The men that live in North England
I saw them for a day
Their hearts are set upon the waste fells
Their skies are fast and grey
From their castle walls a man may see
The mountains far away

The men that live in West England
They see the Severn strong
A rolling on rough water brown
Light aspen leaves along
The have the secret of the rocks
And the oldest kind of song

But the men that live in the South Country
Are the kindest and most wise
They get their laughter from the loud surf
And the faith in their happy eyes
Comes surely from our sister the spring
When over the sea she flies
The violets suddenly bloom at her feet
She blesses us with surprise

I never get between the pines
But I smell the Sussex air
Nor I never come on a belt of sand
But my home is there
And along the skyline of the Downs
So noble and so bare

A lost thing I could never find
Nor a broken thing mend
And I fear I shall be all alone
When I get towards the end
Who will be there to comfort me
Or who will be my friend

I will gather and carefully make my friends
Of the men of the Sussex Weald
They watch the stars from the silent folds
They stiffly plough the fields
By them and the God of the South Country
My poor soul shall be healed

If ever I become a rich man
Or if ever I grow to be old
I will build a house with a deep thatch
To shelter me from the cold
And there shall the Sussex songs  be sung
And the story of Sussex told

I will hold my house in the high woods
Within a walk of the sea
And the men that were boys when I was a boy
Shall sit and drink with me