A dog's life

The neighbour's dog barks
it heard me coming up the driveway
I usually stop and give him a cuddle
but today am too tired
When barking doesn't help it howls
I get up to go to the dog and play a little.
Dogs don't demand a lot they get sad when ignored.
Five minutes of my time and the dog is happy
Just sits there and love me with his eyes.
If only life had been so easy, but it ain't, the day has been filled with driving to
the mechanic
to repair her car and driving her back twice.
When old one likes to be left in peace for a day or
so, and since we are moving I have to carry her
stuff, sometimes she forgets am eighty years and
Have a pacemaker. Hope she will come home late
meet some friend at the supermarket she likes people
as I need a break from her relentless demands.

The Pacific

The ship was going down a water mountain
only to be met with another mountain and
going up and up, this dizzying dance no rest
only holding on for life hoping the Typhon
would blow itself out.
Towards morning the see was simmering
down leaving us to try working, but the talk
in the mess hall was subdued.

For a small poem


Night rain falls softly
On a cobblestones
Seen by a streetlamp
From roofs rain rolls
Down like tears and
Not a word is spoken.
                      
A little nothing
                      
A cat sits on
                      The steps
Not catching rats
Admires
The moon

Mystery
It occupies my mind sometimes I can't think of anything else
walking on old tracks were many walked before me some of them barefoot.
Death is surrounding me.
Leafless tree no bird or insect visits them n planes
among spring flora their useless boughs and branches
are unwelcome truths I take pictures of
a rare flower not yet discovered by a botanist and made
academic with an unbelievable Latin name.
The small bush so delicate it will be taken by the zephyr
in the morning while the sun is still cool.
Sheep will eat them and I will not fret except
black pellets were wildflowers stood.

Family drama

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A couple, in their late fifties, is coming out of the supermarket,

he sits in a wheelchair, she is pushing him along.

He is grumpy swears at her perhaps she had spent too much

money on groceries

She loses her temper parks him on the pavement and drive off

While he sits there smoking a cigarette.

Five minutes later she returns helps him into the car, fold

the wheelchair drives off.

On his lips a smile quivers, triumph or love?

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Le marriage est plein

De grandes esperances

Irrealisee.

How unlucky can a man get?

There was a man, an ocean sailor,
in Argentina, he met a woman who he married.
During a storm, she was washed overboard, and
he couldn’t find her. Undaunted he continued
sailing around the world, met another woman
(from Sidney) and married her.
In the strait Moluccas, they were ambushed, the pirates shot his wife. Well, life goes on and when he finally came
to Oslo, the press was not there to extoll his considerable feat.
The thinking was losing one wife an accident
but losing two was considered irresponsible.
At the sailors club, he was welcomed with polite
coldness, he knew why rumours were floating about.
Disappointed he sold his boat
bought a flat on a high rise, the seventh floor.
this had a terrace with a low railing.
No, she didn't have an accident if you think of it,
but she did commit suicide.
I don't think he ever married again
But he wrote a book about his many years
At sea and tried to explain his misfortunes,
The book sold well since he used an alias.

Artists

Alfred, by chosen father, vehemently denies
the paternity and has had his statue erected in Faro.
At last, he was honoured for being glorious
bringing colour to an otherwise gloomy town.

Graffiti made by the like of Banksy charms
the rest is scribbling on a wall.

I know little about painters except for Caravaggio
he spoke the unvarnished truth about our life.
His critics like to point out that he was illegal too
what else to expect of the fearful.

An inert tarn


In the pond of pleasant memories, a duckling paddled
like an unwanted thought a spring wedding in Brussel.
Flat stones skipped on the pond in the night, quacked
refused to spit out half chewed toothpicks forgotten.
Expel the duck send it abroad to the Saragossa Sea
to a shadowy barren island in the stream
where the monster Amnesia lives; you must be warned
keep away if the ogre gets hold of you, it will not eat
the unwanted, but also the memory of those you loved.

The way it was

I lived on a farm, and one day I walked
down the lane to get the horse in as it looked like rain
a man in a dark suit walked towards me
I said good evening, but he didn't see me.
Later that evening an ancient lady who lived at the farm
it was customary for small farmers to take in old people
and get paid by the state, was feeling ill.
A doctor was called for, but we had no phone, so I was
sent to a farm that had one.
By the time the doctor showed up the lady had died.
The farmers put her in a wooden box that was
used to keep the milk urns it had a lid, this to keep
rats away they smell death.
Next day an open-plan car came they had a coffin
put the lady in a plain coffin and off the drove
to town and that was the last I saw of her.
The farmer got another old person to take her room.

Night frost
  

Last night I wrote a poem in my mind
didn't write it down on paper as it was like a spring flower
coming from the darkness of my awareness.
All I had to do was to get up in the morning and
write my masterpiece down; it didn't happen there
must have been night frost the flower gone?
I have struggled to remember it although I'm aware
That few if any are going to read it and for me it
doesn't matter I'm perfectly able to enjoy what
I write without admiring myself too greatly.

Was it a Painting?

Did I write a poem called “Pieces of Sky?”
Apparently, the poem was well received, and I'm glad for
this boast to my flagging self- confidence.
The nearest I can think of pieces of sky are mountain lakes
which mirror the sky when it is blue and the lakes ditto.
This happens in Tibet or thereabout when the mountains
scrap the heaven and pieces fall off.
In the holes they make you can see forever, before unseen
hands **** the sky into blue velvet,
that is ok, you are not meant to know everything
and become a tedious know-all.

A lady’s dilemma  

Her mind and body are restless
she is in her late-middle-age
a difficult time for a woman.
Her long relationship with a well-off man
has made her economically safe
but she is bored
thinks there has to be some more
before she loses her looks
and disappears into elderliness.
She has grown up with children
they don´t need her as much as before.
A part of her also likes to be settled
married and have a home of her own
She is also worried about her legacy
be sure her children
have something to remember her by.
There is something hectic about her
like time is running out
She might seek solace from her turmoil
in another man’s arms.
She is in a dangerous time of life
I hope she chooses the right path.

Shoplifting

At the supermarket, my wife pushed the trolley
While I walked around in the hope of finding some
Unboring food found a tin of tunny in hot sauce
I could make a breakfast of this (diabetes).
But the tin in my pocket to hand to my wife
And forgot about it.
We paid and left.
Outside I froze we hadn’t paid for the tin!
What to do know? Go in and pay for it, the line
To the till was long, forget about it she said.
I was a shivering wreck when driving out of
The parking lot and no guard tried to stop us.
Ok, I ate the tunny for breakfast, but if I had been
Caught stealing, how to explain it and be believed.

The ****** Brexit

It should have been so simple
There was a referendum
People voted leave
And Britain should have withdrawn
In an orderly fashion; but no.
The remainders wouldn’t here
Of it and the spectacle become undignified.
One would think the UK didn’t exist
Before the EU it did.
Boris Johnson is an opportunist he is
Not remotely interested either way
He wants power
And the American why of health service
The leavers should not entertain him
But continue their fight to let Britain
Go its own way.

About fish

Something made me think of fish
not those in tanks which life must be boring
swimming around and around
until tired and resting at the bottom
wondering how to get out of this watery trap

Do fishes think or is it all instinct?
Say, two codfish meeting each other on the coast
of Greenland: hi, their old mate hasn’t
seen you around for a while? No, I met an escaped
farm salmon, but it didn't work out

It got broody wanted to swim upstream
being a bachelor, I took my farewell and escaped.
Chased and being chased that’s life
a proper fish instead takes its chances rather than
living in a glass tank

The beginning
When I went to school, it was only on religion
Christianity! Jesus with his cross and Danial fighting
a giant ogre, none of the pupils, believed any of this
yet it was entertaining stuff while we wait for
the school term to end so we could jump on our bikes
and play cowboy and Indians.
But what though as a child sticks lately, I have been
thinking of the origin of religion it must go back
thousands of years long before Christianity is there
a beginning, or is it all man’s fear of death?
Perhaps not, once a word was spoken but mankind
forgot, the memory persisted, and we have been
looking for the truth ever since.

The Voice of the People

The morning is excellent and calm
I try to write about the feeling I have inside me,
but can only come up with a feeling
of boredom, that comes when looking out of the window
too often and see nothing has changed.
I don't want to live here anymore, but is fearful
of the unknown – being outside my comfort zone-
even if it is tedious, I find the world scary,
a cacophony of a common scream
That comes with unbridled democracy, everyone
                       Has the right to be heard when they should be quiet
                       or speak sotto voice
when they can only produce banalities
Thinking has to be approved by the masses and
those who call themselves liberal

Musical chicken and an old man  

The old man with too much time on his hands
tried to get a chicken to cluck to music, he played
a tune on his mouth harmonic and fed it grain,
nothing and he came to the conclusion that chickens
are stupid, only a fried one is a good fowl.
The bird belonged to his neighbour, who has a chicken coop,
scrawny looking lot with matted feathers,
While the chicken
he had tried to train was fat; the neighbour killed it
for his dinner, and didn't even give the old man a leg.

Frank Sinatra

I saw a program of him when he was
an athletic young man till he was old and grumpy
with a low hanging belly.
I didn't like him much although he had a wonderful
voice with a clear diction
in reality, he was a small man who liked the company of gangsters
he had bodyguards and liked to be a man of the town
a tough guy who got into fights his guards had to pull him
out off because he was puny.
Since the internet is down I'm reading “The Senility of Vladimir P”
by Michael Honing. A dystopian novel that is also funny.
Vladimir too liked to be tough and was, on his younger days,
mind, he still is. The only thing Vladimir and Frank had in common
was their modest stature. So the moral is, never make fun
of men not as tall as you.

Senryu

A year is a breath
A trivial cosmic moment
For me it is life

Life is not a plateau
But a stormy uphill struggle
The upland is a dream

He stopped dreaming
In the middle of the night
Death fell soft as rain.

The Amazon

The Amazon rainforest cries and the mighty river senses the doom.
The inhabitants of the forest are beleaguered in fear of losing out
the logging, the clearing of land, estates for cattle, future
hamburger meat.
Those who try to help the people of amazon are murdered
not by the rich but by the deluded poor who fear for their livelihood.
A tragedy is enfolding the world watches helplessly, wring hands
and write learned articles about the plight of the Jungle people.
If the rainforest dies, the river will die as well
A new desert where nothing grows except scorpions and snakes
and the nature will suffer the people who lived there
will be extinct, in the name of democracy where everything
is legal if you are mighty; in the end, the globe will die.

The Birth of life

I was born by a woman, this because I'm human
and not a horse, my mother had many faults as a housewife
but she instilled in our honesty and forthrightness
and not stay silent if you have an opinion that is not what
everybody else believes, and I have followed her rules.
I happen to think that abortion is in principle a crime against
nature to end a pregnancy for any reason that is not medical.
I'm the lucky one we lived in poverty yet my mother gave me life.
When pre-born my soul had lived aeons of time and
seen how countries had withered and taken over
because people lived in luxury where wine, *** and lust was
more important than giving life
nations who had forgotten their future and imported
children from afar lands which altered a culture
and replaced it with chaos and failure.
The slave is stronger than the master.
Now it is happening again; women have been lured into
thinking that they are not equal to a man if they  
bear children, which is the highest anyone can reach.
Women are our future let us not forget this simple truth.

Santa Claus

Now that Christmas has become irrelevant but is a commercial success story,
isn't it time we have a female Santa.
The first Santa I saw as a toddler was the neighbour
a rather stout lady, with a false beard she was Santa,
I hid behind my mother who whispered
don't be frightened it is Mrs Strom, which disappointed me,
I wanted so very much to believe.
Going home, it was snowing, and I asked: is there a real Santa
mum, is he a friend of Jesus?
Not wanting to disappoint me she said something about beliefs and faith,
of which I understood nothing, but I had
the feeling they were make-believe, and that was ok for me.

The anti this…
We can be anti this and anti that
say, our hatred of Muslims is there but not deep
and is often based on ignorance.
But we have to face the fact that anti-Semitism
is in the psyche in the western mind.
Here we have to differentiate between Israel and
the Jews as there is not many of them  
in that state of Israel, the sitting government
there are Zionists.
What worries me way anti-Semitism is deep-rooted,
we have to be aware of our feelings at all time
but why is it so?
Of course, the Jews are successful people who
tend to come on top in economic matters, if our
hatred is based on envy we should be ashamed
and clean our souls.
After the war and the pogroms faced by the Jews
in my country to behave Jewish still denote
a negative emotion, like greed, and underhand
as being Jewish when it is not.
I blame Christianity too, over the years, has put
fuel to the fire with Jewish rhetoric.
We must come to the understanding that a Jew
is a fellow man with good and bad qualities  
as I have a look at facts and not the myth.

The best of years

in a side room where things are put to be used later but never will
there is an old “brother” typewriter gathering dust, bought a day
I felt like Mike Spillane, drinking whisky and smoking cigarettes
while writing rapidly about the hidden crime world of Liverpool.
I went into pubs where the gangsters are supposed to hang out
And were met by people buying me pints of beer and telling jokes.
Then, the word processor came along, spelling was not a burden.
Yes, I know, I sold out for a better life; I miss the tapping sound
Pure nostalgia I wrote a poem of love, the one who disappeared
In wider and wider circles, I walked till she was smoke and mirror.
One day I will take the “brother” out and try to locate her.

The mourning
It was an early morning
The day before Christmas
The phone rang
I reluctantly answered
Your mother is dead.
I couldn’t get a flight
Took the dog for a walk
In the woods,
But this day she walked close to me
And didn’t hunt rabbits.
Coming home
I sat by the bed and cried.
At Chrismas Eve
I gave my dog a cream cake
When thinking of my mother
when she was at her best.

The weakling
As a small boy, I had tuberculosis and all
the other illnesses one can have, I was thin a weakling
no thought I would live long.
The doctor had prescribed a half a bottle of cream
I could only gulp a handful and gave the rest to my sister.
Then when about thirteen all this changed I ate well
got the energy to run, cycling and football, I also tried boxing
which I was lousy at.
I grew taller than my siblings and thrived.
When in my twenties my brother died of a brain tumor,
and a few years later my sister.
My mother sank into a  depression she was unable
to get rid of her loss was.
I had the time of my life  and thought it was going
to last forever.
I’m in my eighties now and ponder why should
I live so long when the strong perished?

The compulsive

Autism in the like of Julian Assange
And Greta Thunberg is a force for the good
Their passion can for them be tragic
they go to any length to follow the truth.

I had a tailless female dog, circled to find
the tail, till she got dizzy.

Obsessive people can be tiresome, have
great courage and suffer for their beliefs.
Heroes are for the quest for honesty.
We should be grateful.

Cats
We are looking
after a cat
it is white and yellowish.
I feed it and clean
the litter box.
The catwalks around mewing
and shedding hair
on sofas and beds.
I hate the ******* cat it is
not friendly, sometimes the cat
go on the veranda on
the seventh floor
and it isn't falling down.
I like a dog can bond with it
take it for a walk and they will not
hide in empty boxes
or in your cupboard.
The lady ‘cat owner
will come and pick up the moggy
her little wonder
today and it will not be missed.

Haiku
Drunk I was last night
Today my wife doesn't speak to me
I'm sad and lonely

Haiku
I've stopped smoking
Time hangs heavy in the air
In the smoke-filled pub  

Haiku
New Year’s resolutions
Bring out the worst in people
Makes them boring

The race

Yes, yes I see it coming around the corner
we see the goalpost and the run becomes
a slow walk, those in electric wheelchairs
pretend the battery is flat this is a race
no one wants to win, but the wheelchair
bound are pushed forward by the crowd
those who have not seen the goalpost.
this isn't fair I have always been a loser
why should I be the first to the finishing line?
As a boy I won a bronze medal, was proud
of my feat, this time I don't want a medal
let me rest and see the almond tree flower.

Life is a life
Driving home I nearly hit a rabbit
braked hard and the can of lager fell out of my hand.
We country folk drinks a lot; the police never stop you
unless you drive off the road and plough into a flock of sheep
then you are fined, and the police take the carcass home
dinner, for a big family.
So who am I sentimental over a rabbit when
there are chemical attacks on children in Syria,
and the war of attrition never ends
by courtesy of those who do not want peace there.
How am I sentimental when children are killed?
In Gaza children wounded by teargas have damages lungs
who am I to talk when witnessing the ****** of a people?
That demands to be free of Israeli tyranny.
But deep in my heart if I were hungry enough, I would
have killed that rabbit taken it home and cooked it.
So what this makes me? A sentimental fool crying
over spilt life? Deaths for a higher political cause
like stealing land from the losers.

Flying things

I once saw a flying pig
there was a hard wind blowing from the east.
over the bay of Cascais
The wind slackened and dropped the pig
that was alive and swimming ashore
alas, where men with knives waited.
Every café was serving pork in all its form
a pig is versatile for human consumption.
Can't say the same for my little donkey
on the terrace, it costs me a fortune in carrots
but it has sweet-smelling droppings which
I dry and sell to rose lovers.

Tanka

“Straws bends with the wind
That will uproot you, old oak,”
A yellow stalk said  
“Look behind you, the tree said
The farmer carries a scythe”

The Dark Heart

He sits in his cell can't read newspaper or use the internet,
the centre of his mind is the coldest place on earth, and
so much of him is us.
He committed an unspeakable crime killing children,
his mother died for his sins; his father hopes his son will
Will have the sense to commit suicide.
His cell is frosty blue; those who feed him avoid eye contact,
no one reaches out to touch him and former friends,
Even those in sympathy with his fascism have forsaken him.
He cannot hear this he will not hear, he is king of
his mind – a prisoner- and must not stray from his path.
Cosmic Loneliness, if he wakes up from his slumber of
self-delusion and sees how grotesque he is,
there will be no one who will embrace him and give succour

To my child

In the morning born
rosy cheeks, caused by a fever
as the autumnal sun arose.

In the cradle a smile
of wisdom old,
never cried, the child

When the first snowflakes
softly covered the soil,
a soul went back home.

The outdoors

Once, I walked on newly fallen snow
It was sobering,
but then it got cold, and feet froze
enough of sobering.
Thick, woollen socks and boots
I’m not an outdoor man
Traversing the North Pole is not
For me, I’m not a penguin.
I like to stay by the window when
it snows look romantic, festive too
thinking of yuletide of yore.

They told you a lie

It is said money is not important but love is Balderdash! when you are old you need money as never before,

your house is falling down and you can't do anything about it because you are too poor to get a builder.

Sitting on a settee hand in hand watching dripping, dank walls while watching a white & black TV fluming in a dank corner,

and you will regret money spent on frivolities when young

And lacking the talent needed to make money when you could and never mind about

the memory of women you loved most of them got on married rich, powerful men who died and left them with money

enough to paint the house and fix those pesky water leaks

Cold is the wind in Europe
It is a stormy evening brown leaves flying in the storm, they a
re dank and slimy tore from the tree with no home to call
their own. I'm thinking of Macron, the president of France
He is extolling globalisation, I'm a nationalist I come from
a country that has naturally evolved has its own culture and
an unspoken agreement on how people should perform.
We don't want a global nation with one culture one language,
one thought as dictated by a newspaper owned by the globalists.
It has been tried before under the dictatorship of Stalin.
Macron is, in the words of Oscar Wilde:” Deep down he is
a shallow thinker.”
Migrants are welcomed in my country if the can blend be as us
and not a confused mob demanding changes in the way
we have accepted the system as it is.
Mass migration is a manufactured phenomenon it could
be avoided by investing in the countries they hail from and
is political to sow discord in Europe.
We see how the USA a beacon democracy, has been turned
into a semi- tyranny helped by the opaque forces of Zionism
they want globalisation to serve their end that is  to enslave
and bend us to their will.
The working class in Britain get it and the ditto Germans
to see the way their countries are going and protests
because of the know if this is not stopped a new war will
begin a war that can only benefit the Zionists.

A solution?
as the slaughter of
Palestinian’s
continues.
We must look
to Israel
and see
if there is
general protest
against this
brutality
and demand
a policy change
towards
their neighbours
Knowing many Jews
they must be
appalled  
By the sitting
Israeli governments
political failures.
If not they are
victims
of the Zionists

The meaning of Christmas
In our multi-religious world and lack of Christian faith
I no longer call Christmas by its name but prefer
to call the festive season “The festivities.”
The meaning of “Christmas” was to celebrate the birth of Jesus
but commerce has highjacked the season
we are pressured into buying presents for family and friends.
The JUL is a good word that was celebrated long before Jesus was born
it is on the day the sun turns; spring will soon arrive.
The Jews have their day, so has the Muslims we
are not suggesting they should change this.
We in the west should not be ashamed of our cultural heritage
where our Christian faith places a big part.

Alcoholism and Family
  
His wife has been ill but is on the mend
and is cooking her first lunch for the first time in months
All could have been well for the daughter
who suffers from the illness of alcoholism and it is getting worse.
He used to drink too when a ****** but can see
the difference between drunkenness and alcoholism.
He has confiscated the daughter's car key and can't keep
Alcohol at home (he likes a glass of wine in the evening.)
She refuses to go to Alcoholic anonymous but has agreed
to see a psychologist; she will tell lies and the good
shrinker will give her pills and tell her not to drink.
When her daughter is sober, she is a sweet, kind person
but intoxicated she turns into a devilish being who sometimes
try to strike her mother, she never tries to hit him, because of she
knows he will hit her knock out without punctuation.
All we can do for now is to hope she will understand her problem
and hope for the best.

Gaza women  
  
Mothers
Of Palestine
With heavy heart
You sacrifice
Your children
In the name of freedom
I kiss
The earth you walk on
Your hatred
For the enemy
Runs deep
As do your love for your children
You will cry
Yet you do this
For a high course
I'm with you
All the way
To freedom

The problem of a misfit

The problem with being a ******
is when you come home you have fewer friends,
and those friends you meet are often who were
lost within themselves.
One day I found myself on a park bench drinking
brandy from a bottle that was passed from man to man,
this struck me as a shame to have sunk so low
I got up left them with the bottle had paid for and
walked away, my life was not here.
I left the town for England for a while it was interesting
but couldn't understand the class divide, I had to
find a place of peace, and I saw it in the interior
of Portugal and have lived here ever since.

Pre-dawn
No wind blows
Stillness
From the bakery
Nearby
The aroma
Of fresh bread
Light is probing
                       Morning
                       I hear the rumbling
                      Streetcleaners
Some get up
Early
Wear yellow vests
Voices
Morning
Has arrived
The smell of coffee
Wafts
Through the building.

The Great War and India
Thousands of soldiers from India's interior
(I.5 million) were sent to fight in the Great War
Many of them died and were maimed just
so Britain could keep its hegemony.
When books were written, and history told
somehow the Indian soldiers were mysteriously
forgotten erased out, until now.
But disquiet lingered India became restless
they served the British grudgingly formed
a political party but the Brits arrested, tortured
the leaders and threw them into jail, but
the idea once fomented didn't die and 1947
It became a reality, India was free.

The molester  
On a podcast, I heard Cardinal Pell so poised,
the boys’ were telling lies,
he wouldn't dream of doing this to anyone,
but time moves on he was not believed;
whether he had ruined anyone’s life is debatable.
We had gone on a walking trip it lasted two days,
we slept on a hay-loft and the young
Priest (not Catholic) took my hand on his ***** *****
and made me ******* him,
next day the other boys said he often did that and giggled.
Boys are resilient they do not commit suicide after such
an encounter, it is just one of the things.
The young priest became a bishop, and his serious face on
TV makes me laugh that no one can see the falseness of
the man who is a child molester.
A warning though if it happens to you tell the other boys
but not your mothers who will make you feel guilty
drag you through the court and ***** up your head.

I knew of a family
In an unpainted small house
In the poorest part of the town
The man of the house
Had met his love, Maria
Together they produced 8 children
I wondered where they slept.
The oldest child’s name was Kalle
And became my mother’s boyfriend
The man of the house a made living
Driving horse and cart emptying
Peoples ******* taking it to the dump.
He had a beer in the cart
And sang when driving to the stable
Where he spent time grooming
The horse and feeding it.
He sat on a crate reading the papers
Which he could not do at home.
Still, he loved his Maria and I saw them
Holding hands, she had no teeth
“poverty” and had gone fat.
Yet it was a happy home we celebrated
Our Christmases’ there.
Kalle, who liked to wear a suit
Got a flat with a toilet in another town
And we didn’t see him so often.

The Heat elsewhere
  
It is hot think of switching the air-condition on
but I think of the refugees from Syria waiting for a gate to open
Israel will not want to become a nation of ******.
Jordan like ways has a million refuge and political problems
but if Europe pays them enough can take in some more.
The refugees are sweltering in the hot sun many have not
tents and there is no shade in this no man’s land hell,
I hope the Red Crescent and Doctors without Borders have
the courage to help, all I can do is send money and
not switch on the air-conditioning.

Appreciative
  
Six o'clock
In the morning
Is the best time
To get up when it is summer
Stay on the terrace
Inhale the air
Before it gets hot
Make a coffee
Just being alive
Elderliness is to be grateful
For little things