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Kat Schaefer May 2020
I hope your mornings are filled with kindness
That you rise with the sun instead of the snooze
May your coffee be warm and runneth over
And that you take the time to walk among the lilacs

I hope your afternoons are fast and productive
That your lunch is always your favorite
That you have enough mayo to mix with your ketchup
And that your fries are always crinkled but never cold

I hope that you ditch work for Wednesday night trivia
Your evening away from the relentless overtime
That you indulge in cheap food and light conversation
And that you never think twice about putting yourself first

I hope that you crawl into bed before midnight
That you are greeted by a soft pillow and warm blankets
May your eyes grow heavy and the lights go dim
And that you always remember that you are loved
Kath Aug 2016
And when I looked around the room, the room that was holding only my best pals I drowned out every uproar, every babel and every whisper. My vision went into slow motion as if I was part of a cliche romantic comedy. That's when it hit me. This idea of "love" everyone talks about isn't real. Love isn't crazy, it's not a movie scene, it's not selfish, and it's not complicated. Love isn't violently crying at 4 am over a boy thinking "he's my whole world" and "I can't live without him." Love is hanging out anywhere with your best friends, the friends that genuinely care for your well being. Love is laughing with them until your stomach hurts, laughing until it's almost morning and not giving a single **** that you didn't get any sleep. At the end of the day, that's the love I live for.

Paul Butters Nov 2015
Mike Bee,
Wandering Free.
My *****’s Pub Sunday Luncheon mate,
With always plenty on his plate.

Then at The Crow’s there’s John and Keith,
Using Sam Smith’s to wash their teeth.
What they don’t know, isn’t worth knowing,
Lots of banter to keep me going.

They call Brian there, “Encyclopaedia”,
With lots of facts, he will feed ya.
He’s so bright cos he’s from Leeds,
And knows his I before E except after Cs.

Paul Butters
My drinking pals....
Tony Luxton Jul 2015
He lived next door but one to us
and chased me down the entry.
We went to school and played our tricks.
We worked at weaving, wenched and fished.

Listened to the deadly yarn
the friendly sergeant spun.
Signed us up, lined up like bobbins,
waiting for our places in the sun.

Willie shared a *** with me
before the whistle blew.
We had a packet left
so shared our memories too.

We walked straight as shuttles
through that valley of the Somme.
Six hundred fell with Willie
neath the barrage from the ***.

The slaughter carried on.

The East Lancs filled our ranks
from outside Accrington.
Will sharing **** catch on.

— The End —