Flower stalk in beak
Bird of love and bird of peace
A world wide symbol

Right across the sky
Awesome electric sparklers
Don't stand under trees

Pretty clouds up high
So soft and white and fluffy
Birds are still flying

So sad will be the days
when people don’t write letters
with pen and paper anymore

The beauty of hand-written words
and uniqueness of style in script
will be eroded to the core

The warmth and human closeness
of letters scripted by the hand
will slowly cease to exist

For they will be replaced
by the uncaring coldness
of set types of the computing beast

He was perched high up in the air,
Sitting on an antenna there,
Amidst a soothing summer's breeze,
Distant from future winter's freeze;

He was cleaning himself calmly,
With half-spread wings uncaringly,
Then smoothing all his feathers down,
Looked around with a birdie frown;

I wondered what his thoughts were,
Was he scanning the scene for her?
Outlined he was in bright sunlight,
And then - he flew away from sight.

You will see me only once a year,
When I come to spread some Easter cheer,
You won’t really know where I’ll be bound,
For I hop around without a sound.

I will be bringing some gifts for you,
Sweets, caramel and chocolates too,
Unlike yellow chicks and coloured eggs,
You will know me by my ears and legs.

If you have some free time,
You can come with me,
I’ll take you to a tiny glen,
Behind an aging tree.

We will follow a stream,
Hidden in a valley,
And we can find the little men,
If we are really lucky.

‘Tis said they don’t exist,
That it’s a fairy tale,
But I have really seen them,
They are fast and small and pale.

So when the time is right,
You can come with me,
And we will go to Elfin land,
Behind an aging tree.