It was an autumn day; a fresh aroma the air.
Breathing in deeply, I was trapped in a snare.
How was I loured into this dangerous trap,
I just was not looking or even aware.
There was a sweet sticky dew tasting like mead,
This honey nectar turned my head to greed.
Losing control I was going out of my mind,
In a strange flower bed, I left my world behind.
Now wondering in a deep psychedelic dream,
I am floating eagerly down a rainbow stream.
Tender fresh flesh standing bold and proud,
Attracting prey with her bright coloured shroud.
Giving in freely, about to be devoured.    
My censors telling me I was being deflowered.
There were silky soft hairs all over my skin,
Is a shocking end about to begin?
If no one had noticed I was ensnared in this place,
It may have all ended in humiliation and disgrace.
Now in so deep I have lost all self control,
It was as if a demon had stolen my soul.
Just then a watchful serpent raised its head,
Looking straight at me it hissed and said.
“I can see you; you have had your fun,
Now it is time to pay, or get out and run”.
Shocked out of the dream, I saw my plight,
What he said was true, I made my flight.
Lucky to escape, my advice is here,
If you see a Venus Flytrap,
STAY CLEAR.

At the bottom of our limestone cliffs,
In a great heap on the sand.
Is where they tipped the waste glass,
From the foundry on the land.

Over many years the rough seas,
Have ground it really smooth.
As it is washed along the shore,
By the east tide on the move.

People looking carefully,
For beach glass as they roam.
Popped in a plastic bag,
And proudly taken home.

Some end up in the garden,
Decorating old flower pots.
You find them stored in jars,
A collection of precious gems.
But the more patient and artistic,
Glue them to pots in different ways,
Then finish by painting with a glaze.

As I sit on the rocks by the sea,
Watching  people as they pass by me.
I see many different ages bending up and down,
Picking glass pebbles like jewels from a crown.
Old or young there is a look in their eyes,
If they pick a perfect pebble it's excitement and surprise.
Every day they come like an invasion on the shore,
But it's nothing quite so cynical,
They have just come to pick some more.

I look in the mirror,
It does not look right,
Is it a trick of the light?

I can still see clearly
My eyes are still bright.
But when I am reading,
I need more light.

My crooked teeth,
I used to hide.
Replaced by dentures,
And a smile that's wide.

Grey hair once was gold,
I am thinning now,
Where waves once rolled.

My hearing maybe dulled,
But that’s no surprise.
My ears are sprouting hair,
Like a funny disguise.

My face shows no stress,
Wrinkle free I’ve been blessed.
Just a little double chin,
Cheese and wine my only sins.

In my mind I’m still young,
But the reflection is right.
It's my face in the mirror,
No trick of the light.

When first you feel passion,
It is part of love in a fashion.
Real love that is based on trust,
From both sides that’s a must.
Forgiveness when either falters,
Faithfulness that never alters.
Sharing not just wealth but pain,
All worldly things are loves gain.
Keeping mutual awareness alive,
Listen with interest to survive.
Pick up signals on quiet days,
Missing these can lead to a maze.
Discus problems so secret and deep,
Confessions shared can help us sleep.
Thinking your knowledge is complete,
There will forever be more to greet.
For I have loved in happiness and tears,
Understanding more over all these years.
Show attention to detail and explore,
Then every day you may love more.

Trapped in my world,    
But I am totally free.
A fence all around,
Not one you can see.
I am not gagged,
But cannot speak.
My voice is clear,
I want no one to hear.
In my insecure way I see,
A daunting world looks at me.
Shy timid they would say,
Looking at me I looked away.
As a child I was accepted,
In adulthood it is not expected.
Now managing some control,
But still I hide my console.
This is how I live my life,
I have a family and a wife.
Love they show in every way,
Still I feel diffidence every day.

In our back yard stood a brick Netty.
Paper on a nail and it is not confetti.
With a concrete roof and concrete floor,
To keep it private a big wooden door.
Cold and damp the outside loo,
Shared by the flat upstairs to.
This was our toilet on a cold winter day,
A paraffin lamp to light our way.
Cast iron cistern placed up high,
Iron chain you pulled with a sigh.  
Pipes lagged with old carpet or sack,
In severe winters they freeze and crack.
Sometimes while sitting in the dim light,
A silver trail would catch you eye,
It was the sign of a snail passing bye.
Follow this line along the wall,
There you find one not always small.
Pick it up from where it lay,
Drop in to the *** and flush away.
Winter fades into spring,
Warmer day’s new problems bring.
Dad.
He would sit reading the paper,
While having a smoke.
We waited outside it was no joke.
Then out he came smiling,
As he passed our way.
Leaving his paper on the floor,
We go in and close the door.
The smell of smoke made us wail,
While tearing up the paper,
To put on the nail.