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Well, here I am again
feeling like a lamb to the slaughter led
can't see that page that I read and read
the one where you once told me you loved me

Well, here I am again
teardrops falling down my cheeks like rain
make up hiding a heart full of pain
cos you said you didn't want to see me again

Well, here I am again
exterior hiding a love gone bad
takin' all the good things that I ever had

Well, I've been here a long time now
it didn't take long before I got to know
that I was just another name in your book
and the ink's run dry so I'll sit and cry
no-one left to give a ****
about the way that I look
I am fallen now onto cold wet earth
blown from the Horse Chestnut Tree
where months ago I was given birth

There were humans around my parent
crowding his sturdy trunk earlier today
before blustering breezes blew me away

They were discussing something awful
which went so far beyond my belief, me
being still an impressionable young leaf

They said my parent the Horse Chestnut Tree
may soon not be around, and so may well be
unable then to bear more offspring such as me

I cannot believe how this could possibly be
for there are so many others all just like me
but you Humans are really to blame, you see

You have choked us with fumes every day
have felled us to make room for motorways
and stolen our shiny seeds simply for play

Have you thought what will happen, Humans
when we Horse Chestnuts no longer are there
where will you shelter, where will the birds sing
in bleak barren spaces, empty, cold, and bare?

I am turning crispy now, just as my parent foretold
and I will soon be returned to Earth dark and cold

So, take me in your hands, Human, take one last look
then open with those trembling hands God's holy Book
then I beg of you, gently between the pages press me
and say a heartfelt prayer for the Horse Chestnut Tree
“Hush” he whispered
stroking her cheeks
her neck
her hair
brushing with his long, cold fingers
her pale lips
as his lips parted
“perfect” he said
“hush” he repeated
“or someone will hear
this is our secret
and if you should tell
you will be taken far, far away
from home
and the door will be shut forever”
she listened, and obeyed
obedient as always
her lips trembling
her cheeks hot
imagining his touch
his fingers slithering
as a snake slithers
into the undergrowth of her soul
the door, as he had promised
stayed open
but she was no longer
an innocent child
she was
no longer
a little book lies in a bedside drawer
its cover worn by travel over the years
pages bearing scrawled childish writing
or blurred and blotched as if by tears
this is not a book of great distinction
no author great has given it their name
nor did they rise by the writing of it
high in the ranks of literary fame
sometimes the book is gently opened
and names from pages leap to catch the eye
each bringing back a memory long treasured
each bringing back a long and heartfelt sigh
four girls who went through school together
the boy who we all wanted for our own
the envied girls who looked like models
in whom the seeds of beauty then were sown
pranks that brought us so much fun and laughter
the classrooms and the smell of boards and chalk
the school garden where we dug and planted
and where in sunny days we used to walk
and there, the names of some of those Teachers
who taught us much in many different ways
every page, each entry,  brings a memory
to treasure, in my autograph book
of cherished schoolgirl days
He sat in his car
already thinking of those classics
Lamborghini, Mercedes, Bugatti, Rolls Royce
which one would be his choice
Oh forget it laddie, tough!
no money in that (piggy) bank
not old enough!
but wait, there is one benefit though
no putting petrol
in the tank
foot power enough
no tears now
no sighs
his red pedal car
of sufficient vintage in his
five year old eyes
Paws pad
to distant horizon a questing  muzzle points
ambered eyes dilate to desperation
sleet ruffles coat of brindled grey
on the slate stepped trail
the stunted trees beside him sway
he swallows and by hunger is he hollowed
salivates froth against
teeth chattering in ivoried
playing of cold psalm to
distant, cold, creator
ice crystalises
and pads harden
hollowness expands
and he slows
fur a heavy unholy blanket
legs no longer bear what weight is left
wind rakes with cruel touch
the freezing fur
flesh shudders
eyes blink shut
stare now
at new
and strange
paw prints
are all that is left
as reminder of life
she sat in the dining car of the train
tea leaves floated in white china cup
a single biscuit crumbled between
her ringless, cold, trembling, fingers
a stained spoon glimmered upon
the tea stained saucer and a
single tear slid down her cheek
to meet her trembling lips as she
lifted the cup and took a single sip
she was cold through to the bone
amid the warmth of so many
hurried farewell embraces
so many voices, so many faces
young men, shouldering rifles
rain upon their khaki'd backs
and he was gone
and she was going back home
and life must go on
War takes.
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