Drops fall from the grey,
Singly spattering leaves
Crashing through foliage
To bounce upon the earth
landing in cracks, amongst the roots
Your tears fall from eyes
To touch to the cheek,
A shimmering memory
Of a twice grey day

When I peer into those eyes, so full of life
I ask did you have a name, or is it long since lost.
Did your mother hold you and call you pet, or
Were you the forgotten one, left to fend?
Where you presented wooden soldiers, for
One remembered birthday long, long ago.
Do I see a soldier boy, fighting in a field?
That’s long, long forgotten in a distant land
When I look into those eyes, please remember
That I have forgotten you.

A large penny for the mysterious sweet shop and
A wooden tray of treasures, for my paper twist,
Fingers sticky with sugar, giggling at the silliness
Of a younger sister with a boys haircut

Silver milk bottle tops on a frosty winters morn
Pierced by hungry, pecking ****,  
Finger nails scrapping frost from window panes
Revealing the dim day dawning before simpler eyes

Listening to the breakfast radio show for latest releases
Above a chattering bustling kitchen
Shouting, a little sister curling her hair, that we’d be late
Pelting towards school bus, with Camus stuffed in a torn pocket

Calmer quiet voices
Roll round this soul,
Searching for peaceful seas
Upon which to sail.

At the bottom of the world,
There's an anchor tethering,
Us in place.
Ensuring that the moon,
Is always the right way up,
In that star studded sky,
For you to watch,
And me to smile at,
Knowing that you watch,
Is ALL.

Wandering along this dusty path,
Humming tunes, with the breeze,
Upon your shoulder.
Makes the day seem real,
Dirt covered boots scuffed,
Embedded by years travelling.
Carrying all that you need,
Stopping for no-one,
Just a walking and a humming.
The perfect day away.

© Nick Strong 2014