The sun shone today
The first time this spring
The gardeners get busy
So, the Robins sing

Bulbs break through the earth
In soldier formation
I have time to behold
Is it because, I’m in isolation?

A well furrowed field with no seed
Encourages only weeds
My garden will be well nurtured
With my own growing needs

My tears still tumble
Like falling leaves in autumn sun
My life is not over
Its only just begun

When a love is over
Alone we count the cost
When a glove is missing
Both are lost

As he cast a lucky penny out into the sea, and wished,
it caught a wave and drifted down to the bottom.
Alert as always, the impact was seen by a hungry small fish
gulping up debris and food alike.

Its silver flash caught in the eye of predator who swallowed
it whole, now, with craving taste buds it spied a worm,
dangling in mid depth.
With one swish of its tail it flew to the surface,
dangling in mid air.  

The fisherman smiled at such a prize, packed it in ice and sent it on
Its way to a local restaurant, to be dressed in
the finest salad, pride and place.

Feeling peckish after his walk on the sandy shore, the lucky penny thrower spied the mouth watering fish, napkin, knife and fork at the ready, quickly tucked in.

As the tender meat slowly slid down the back of is throat, so did the lucky penny.
He keeled over and died.

The moral of the story is.

There is no such thing as a Lucky Penny.
If there was why would you throw it away.

The Eastern world it is exploding,
cinders blowing in the wind, glowing at the rising sun.

To the sound of silence screaming its pain at the emptiness,
that was once our pride.

I gaze beyond the raging sea,
as the darkness comes and signals the end of our time.

On the eve of our destruction,
poets still write words that no one will hear, of love, life and Armageddon

Our light fades as the pen reaches the end of the page.
The book is closed.