Lucky is he who has
a warm bed  to sleep
Enough to eat, water to drink.
Water to bathe.
Luckier is he who has the blessing of health, friends and family.
Most lucky is he who has himself and faith within.
Blessed.


Shell✨🐚

AND THE WORLD WAS AS SIMPLE AS SNOW

You are like. .  .all
the dark shops of my childhood
where you enter with the little ****** of a bell

and the world blossoms

into a myriad of things colourful to sell
stacked in impossible & impeccable order

all yelling shining glinting wild & glassy

and the cash register singing with the hard earned money
and the little ****** of a bell lets you out again

into a world
excited with the falling of  snow

& the palpable approach
of  a Christmas when Christmas was Christmas

and the world
was as simple as snow.

*

It is a love poem for my sister Junie...the YOU ARE LIKE. . .and then I am taken up on the wings of memory and she's alive again and I am 7 and always holding her hand as we go to buy my Ma 4711 eau de tiolette and my Da Old Spice aftersahve. I always got them these presents year after year in the time of my childhood..It took me 6 months to save up the money for them...and I would look longingly at kids ******* ice lollies in the depths of summer but save my little pennies 'til they grew into pounds and Christmas approached slowly and silently but I was always ready for it...and I would go with my sister June up to a lovely old chemist all polished wood and brass and glass...the little bell creating the wonder and with its ****** right on cue the snow would fall and I would hold my lovely sister's hand forever and ever and never ever let go...the delight was in my sister and her love and this is what the poem is all about....Christmas is just the backdrop to my always remembering her so. I can still feel her hand.

Growing old,
I am scared of losing my mobility,
Becoming incompetent.
Afraid, afraid of myself,
When I cannot even make a cup tea,
Sitting by the window in a wheel chair,
Looking at the grey sky,
The stench of a soiled pamper unbearable,
Waiting for somebody to help me.
How could I hold onto material things,
My pride and ego,
When I will be unable to balance a spoon or glass,
And when I drool and spill food on the floor,
My own glaring at me,
A burden.
Anxiety sets in the core of my bones,
When the day will come,
I will have to depend on my children for a glass of water and other needs,
My calls falling on deaf ears
Me a nuisance.
I pray the day does not come,
And if it does,
It does not take too long.
7/12/2023

Don’t look too long
too deep
in those eyes.
You wil meet yourself.



Shell     ✨🐚

Immaculate white velvet kisses.
Covering little wooden cabin
by the lake
in peaceful quiet,
not a sound.
Christmas trees in nature
standing perfectly still,
shivering in winter’s cold.
Waiting patiently for cozy nights to come along.
With a family sitting around the fire
drinking hot chocolate
singing Christmas songs.
It’s the memory of my childhood.
When my folks were still around.
The time for new memories is now,
feelings of deja vu on my minds




Shell ✨🐚