Things that make us different, are not all to do with genes?
There is more to life than history, how we speak or look.
Environment, upbringing is maybe where it starts,
But life’s experience brings closeness that’s difficult to part.
Friends we grew up with, shared secrets of our youth,
Good things and bad only they would know the truth.
Through working years, problem times and strife,
Bringing comradeship that could last all our life.
As we grow older friends sometimes slip apart,
Leaving only those who are closest to our heart.
Now memories that we share really deep inside,
Of tears, pain, happiness and occasionally of pride.
Something brought us closer than simple little genes,
Maybe its life itself, things behind the scenes.
If I had to choose who was really foremost in my life,
Standing next to me my companion and friend,
Not simply but most of all, my wife.

I-Spy

A ladybird, busy,  
On a sunny September day.
A  farmer,
Just finished cutting the hay.
A wasp on a dried out flower,
Autumn is here,
He is losing his power.
A penny nailed to a tree,
I-spy is fun lots to see.
All left at peace for others to spy,
From our feet up to the sky.
Leaving the penny hanging there,
Maybe there is  no change to spare.

Realization of sanity
Standing on the edge looking at the ground,
Shall I jump without making any sound?
A beautiful peace never experienced before,
Drifting to a new world through an open door.
Would life pass me by as quickly as they say?
Or maybe more painful day by painful day.
Stepping back quickly, I suddenly realize,
Love all around keeps us from demise.
I could not be so selfish to all that love and care,
Then I think again,
What if they were not there?

Little bits of litter blowing everywhere,
Is it that we are carless? Or maybe we don’t care.
Bags and bottles ******* of every kind,
A simple picnic our ******* left behind.
Bottles of all sizes floating on the pond,
If left on the beach will travel far beyond.
Polystyrene boxes used for burgers or chips,
Are float on our ponds like little litter ships.
But worst of all the dreaded carrier bag,
Hang from wires and trees like a kind of flag.
Just to make sure we spread it far and wide,
Cars are used to carry debris to the countryside.
Now that we have spread it from coast to coast,
We are a famous nation because we litter most.
Fish and chips were sold wrapped in newspaper,
You could say part of a natural recycling scheme.
Pop was bought in bottles with a paid deposit,
Kiddies for pocket money collected to redeem.
Litter is not pretty it will not go away,
Soon we will have nowhere clean to play.
Maybe if we learn to take our litter home again,
We would see the trees and flowers,
Down our English country lane.

I stood alone against the wall,
They all looked tall, I felt so small.
Never asked to join in any games,
More often laughed at or called names.
I was not different, or had an unusual look,
I was not bright, or kept my head in a book.
Shy, timid, quiet, almost afraid to speak,
As they shouted I turned my cheek.
Alone in a different world,
Faces frowned lips were curled.  
Every day I would dread school,
Made to feel like a fool.
Paine I felt was deep inside,
Hiding away with no pride.
Never coming first, not a friend,
On a bad day I wished my life would end.
No one knew how I felt,
Or how I prayed when I knelt.
Why was I made this way?
Why can't I shout or play?
I couldn’t see we were all the same,
To them it was just a game.
Children do this every where,
It seems as if they didn’t care.
It may be part of growing up,
To adult from a pup.
Just How cruel can people be,
Somewhere someone will also see.
What I saw through my eyes,  
Now I see and recognize.

They grew up holding hands playing on the sand,
But what the grownups warned they couldn’t understand.
One day you will have to part when grown up by the sea,
Nothing lasts forever, something’s are not meant to be.
Never kiss on the lips while holding hands so tight,
Maybe on the cheek, but never late at night.
Then came the day while playing round the pools,
She looked at him and whispered, let us forget about the rules.
As their lips touched she remembered what her father used to say,
“Never kiss an urchin my little mermaid, futures will depend”,
“You are destined for the ocean not here with your friend”.
“Just one kiss and you will lose your crown and thrown”,
“While standing close together you'll slowly turn to stone”.

Porage Oats?
Porridge simmering slowly on an old gas hob,
In a large enamel *** that was kept for this job.
We stirred it occasionally with a spoon shaped stick,
This stopped it burning or getting too thick.
You knew when it was time to do the spoon test,
If the spoon stood up strait then it was at its best.
Served with golden treacle the way I liked it most,
That melted like a glaze Oh yes and a slice of toast.
Those cold winter mornings it warmed the heart,
We would all walk to school with a healthy start.
Just been too busy working all my life,
No time to make porridge for me and my wife.
I have tried many new cereals in the past 40 years,
Some not to bad but containing too much sugar.
They call it glaze with bits of chocolate to,
But with a threat of diabetes it just will not do.
Now that I’m retired I go shopping every day,
More time for cooking in the old fashioned way.
Last winter a large promotion caught my eye,
It was for porridge, I could not pass it bye.
Not the instant stuff, cooked in minutes two,
It's Proper Porage Oats that sticks like glue.
Is this a second childhood where I want to play?
No, just a wholesome breakfast for a frosty day.