Just a story.
When I was a kid... yes there was a time I was a kid, the garden was just South of the house.  Mom and I worked in the garden a lot.  Sometimes when she was not in the garden I would lay between the carrot rows, pull a carrot out of the sandy soil, brush off the sand and have a very fresh yummy carrot.  They were soooo tender they seemed to melt in my mouth.  Anyway, when I was finished eating the carrot I would put the top back into the hole.  No one was the wiser.  No one knew the difference or so I thought.  I did notice the carrot top would wilt which looked a little suspicious but... there was a gopher problem so maybe the gophers ate the carrots.  Sounded like a good story to me.  "Did the gopher eat the carrot mom?" "Yes probably so."

I found out years later.... Mom knew who the gopher was.  BUSTED.

I was telling this story to my grand daughter Lucy after school one day.  Her eyes brightened up and said, "That is a funny story grandpa."  So here it is added to the memories of a grandpa.  Lucy keeps telling people, strangers even, "you should hear this. Grandpa tell them about the carrots."  The story has latched onto her 5 year old brain and won't let go.

So... the next time you are eating a carrot... don't fib to your mom.

The old man sat somewhere twix bemused and bewildered,
Staring out at the mist that lay upon the puse horizon of twilight.
Horace, the brown and white dog with the shaggy coat,
came and curled himself around his masters feet,
The old mans hand fell upon the dogs faithful head,
gently he stroked the dog, yet without sentiment,
but rather with a sense of habit, formed by years of ritual.
and so each day he sits and awaits the coming twilight.

21st December 2010

The butterfly and the bee pollinate,
the unknown flower of memory,
then fly off through the gaps,
of the spiders web into the blackness,
of the vast midnight of the mind.

Words shower down into a torrent,
that falls upon a bewildered numbness,
remaining incoherent, they flow on,
into the stream where perhaps a child,
will gather them and weave them into a melody.

Slowly the poet slides away, unnoticed,
into the mist of time and unconsciousness,
Hidden deep within the flower bed of memory.
an unknown flower not yet pollinated,
still waiting in the realm of the midnight darkness.

In the childs mind the sun shines brightly,
as she brushes the words she has taken,
from the stream of life, with the days light,
The poet breathes, renewed and alive.
so it is in the universal garden of life.

There is no real date
To know when I had loved you
And there is no fear and limit
For the things you'd say, I’d do.

I'd swim against currents
And drown in tides fathoms deep.
I’d climb the highest mountain
And jump when you say, “Leap.”

I’d break the largest mirror
And walk on its shattered glass.
I’d run around the earth a thousand times,
Just to make us last.

I’d fly a plane through a storm,
Never stop until it’s through.
Yes I would do this all,
So you would love me too.

I’m looking at you-
Looking-looking-not.

I’m pretending I wasn’t staring-
Now I’m looking-looking-caught.

When you're down and feeling blue,
Turn to him and he will see you through
Trust in the Lord and you will see,
His great power will strengthen thee
There's no greater love then from above,
He will hold you and show such love
With his great touch and tender care,
Turn to him if you dare
When you feel like noone's here,
Always remember that he is near
He watches from the clouds above,
So talk to him that's what he loves
When you're down and feel so broken,
Remember he is beside you for you're his token
This life will pass and you shall part,
But with him you'll return as from the start