When did you see me last as I passed by,
Were you really looking at the sky.
I saw you glancing straight through me,
Pretending casually no to see.
Did I offend, I don’t recall,
I treated you as I do all.
Maybe it’s just most memories fade,
Some friends are lost and new are made.
I know that place called yesterday,
I used to live there to.
All my clothes were handed down,
Not just coat and shoe.
Father was the family head,
But mother took control.
He kept a firm hand on us,
We never lied or stole.
At school we behaeved our self's,
Teachers always right.
Learning tables with a rhyme,
Doing homework every night.
Playing in the back street,
Skiping rope from side to side.
Jumping in and out,
Taking turns with pride.
A single policeman patroled this patch,
His motorbike was heard.
Mischievous children stopped in owe,
cautiously moving on deterred.
Respect was taught a way of life,
Not for reward or gain.
We were all brought up this way,
Why can't we be that way again?.
An Industrial scar on the south face of town,
at the bottom of cliffs dark muddy brown.
Once golden sands now slate grey,
the polluter’s price we've had to pay.
A most convenient place to tip shale,
by conveyor or down the rail.
Men would glean coal from the beach,
nanny goats path they risked to reach.
None could have foreseen the fall of all three,
Coal reserves reaching far out to sea.
Political decision’s in cloaked disguise,
bringing about Seaham's mining demise.
Erected symbols of our past,
none as poignant than the Blast.
"There are no Fairies in my garden,
or rather I've seen none yet.
But I keep a look out,
in case I miss one with regret.
There is a king of magic,
beneath our cherry tree.
In amongst the flowers,
with butterfly and bee.
Blackbird in the evergreen,
nesting out of sight.
Blue *** in the bird box,
colourful and bright.
A tiny mouse hides in the corner,
taking refuge from a cat.
As it prances round the lawn,
from the nearby flat.
We have some garden lights,
don't look much in day.
They twinkle in the dark,
we hope the fairies play.
So in my retirement,
I set imagination free.
That's when to my amazement,
A flutter of Fairies I could see."
When the armies of the world amass on the plains,
a desolate place where it never rains.
Is this Armageddon as predicted?,
a terrible end freedoms restricted.
No more children climbing up trees,
coming home happy with ***** knees.
Just panic and fear in shopping malls,
hatred daubed on all the walls.
Why should we follow words written in books,
lost in translation where no one looks.
At the beginning true meaning of life,
A simple message where man takes a wife.
We still have time to break down the wall,
If both sides share,
there will be plenty for all.
In a limestone meadow ,
near a quarry by the sea.
There grows a beautiful Orchid,
that looks just like a bee.
After summer solstice,
standing in full bloom.
Like natures beauty queen,
every head turns in the room.
Whenever I pay Homage,
while down on one knee.
I capture an image,
for everyone to see.
Among the sandy rocks,
against the odds it grows.
Slim chance of survival,
as the North wind blows.
Maybe we could learn,
from this special plant.
No matter how stony your life,
our inner beauty we could grant.
While sitting in my garden,
one summer's day.
Watching the children,
where they love to play.
just how important,
a focal point can be.
Climbing frame or leafy shade,
A happy place to be.
Planted when we moved in,
with children very small.
Both branches and family,
have grown very tall.
Abundant pink blossom,
bringing forth it's fruit.
Beautiful red cherries,
to eat or take root.
Trees are special people,
with a language of their own.
Making lots of friends,
wherever they are grown.
Now that we older,
branches aging to.
Our Family Cherry Tree,
it's friendship gives to you.