Next time you're learning something new,
learn it like you're learning to teach it.

Sometimes I wish
I was a seashell on the beach
That you would pick up
And keep forever.

Yes you might be fourty or yet still in your teens
But still my children who carry forth my dreams
We gather here my children, 'tis here we pen the words
That talk of love,  of passion and fairy stories read
But still I read of bitterness among my children here
Read the words of hatred wrote with the vitriolic knib
I weep for you who pen the words, words I cant control
All I ask is that you stop and think, look inside your soul
You may not like the words I write, I might not like those of yours
But at least give understanding and never close the door

Where are all the carnival rides
The Ferris wheel with bright lights
The fairy floss and cherry cokes
and the warm sultry nights
The call of the racketeer
encouraging all to take a chance
Where's the monkey you carried
just so we could hold hands

Where are all the park benches
that used to ring the pond
Where are the acres of green grass
where we sat as you sang me our song

and where have all the ducks gone?

Where has gone the soda shop,
the big band dance halls
and the local Ihop?

There stands the apartment block
where our little house once stood
Where have all the children gone
that we once watched from the stoop

Where are the endless games
of hide and seek and peek a boo
Where's the night gone, the fires out
Where is the heartbeat of our intimacy we shared in our bedroom?

Its all there in the asbestos ceiling
and in the plaster that is cracked
it crinkles beneath fingers
of cold cotton bed sheets
sterile of comfort and it lacks
the vibrancy of emotions
from another lifetime
Laying still, awaiting the ground
It drifts like fog in an ageing mind