Defender
                 Fiesta
                            Focus
                                       Zaphira
                            Vectra
                   Leon
         Astra
Ibiza

You just look at me in that non judgemental way as you stand gently swaying in the breeze.
Arms outreach like the branches of a tree with leaves of an evergreen.
Your roots are under me, tying knots around my legs as they continue to grow also binding up the words which leave my mouth.
I'm suffocated by your grasping greying bark and have now become intertwined by the vine slowly creeping up your immense trunk.
We continue to grow together and whatever the weather will continue to do so as we are so interconnected that I am you and you are me.

She flicked her hair off her shoulder.
I took it as a sign and became bolder.
I pinched her ***.
She shouted "PERVERT"
Wish I had a time machine to avoid the introvert I had become.

Waiting in the winds.
Squinting in the sunlit hills a group of people wait for darkness to fall.
Against all the odds they have travelled land and sea to make it this far but not far enough for THAT better life.
What do they seek on the other side of that dark tunnel?
Health wealth happiness.
Could it be a dream too far?
Even the fittest fail to survive as night after night death grips the bravest to jump onto a moving train destined for Grand Bretagne.

Altogether on the boat.
The waves stood tall.
Not enough space on the boat to hold them all.

25 migrants promised new lives.
They left behind their children.
They left behind their wives.

The dream of prosperity.
The men set sail.
Turned into a nightmare did this sad and sorry tale.

5 died of hunger, 6 of dehydration.
A woeful situation.
No plan B or mitigation.

The men laid to rest at the bottom of the sea.
These were normal people like you and like me.

Looking for a better life.
It's all so terribly sad.
A wife missing her husband.
A child missing his dad.

The only ones to gain are the ones who sold the dream.
The ones who take blood money are never what they seem.

They take the hard earned cash from men who Want a better way of life. They care little for their children and care nothing for their wives.

Covent Garden.
Midnight.
Revellers and tourists combined.
The market is heaving.
Last trains are leaving.
An eclectic mix to broaden the mind.

Covent Garden.
2am.
The place is pretty quiet.
Pubs have closed.
Clubs.... God knows.
The tourists have frozen their riot.

Covent Garden.
4am.
A drunkard stumbles by.
Flood lit shops.
A rickshaw stops.
The backdrop against a reddish
sky.

Covent Garden.
6am.
Blokes lurk down Langley street.
The glint of a blade.
A blur in the shade.
Lava tip of cigarette falls to a strangers feet.

Covent Garden.
8am.
Commuters emerge from underground stations.
Workers prepare.
Visitors beware.
Pick pockets attracted like gravitation.