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Not for us the delights of Venice
A tan on the Med or being seen on the piste,
Our holiday was passed down to us by elders
Who religiously planned for two weeks of heaven at least
When the whole street decended
Like so many aliens
Who on reaching the earth's atmosphere
Forgot they were supposed to **** and pillage
And just went plain silly,
In caravans and huge tents you said
A congregation of days running together
Whose shimmering horizons, like great moats
Protected, edified, were ready to sweep away
Invading thoughts of returning to that hum drum existence
Of that make believe life forever ended.

Sadly we never achieved such heights
Ours were snatched days, hastily arranged nights
When we gambled on the weather
Opted for more familiar sights,
And there it is, just as you had left it
The sandcastle with tiny flagged turrets
And shells, handpicked, embroidered
On to walls packed tight
Enough to repel the advancing tide
The merciless frothy blackness, creeping all night
Over our lost childhood and innocence.

Even those stolen moments are not on offer anymore
Leaving me hundreds of miles from shore
With the bucket and ***** you both forgot
And plenty of time to reflect
On what could have been
But if I concentrate very hard
I can just make out two small figures
Playing like children
On the beach
In the sun.
Do we ever recover
From the shame
Of that first essay
Thrown back,
Covered in red ink
With comments like,
'Spelling mistakes galore,
Writing unintelligible,
Question misunderstood,
Could have done better,
Should have been more?'

Or held up in class
For everyone to see
Read aloud
To a background
Of sniggering relief
As an example of how
Not to do it
And then, 'If this is
Your best, it beggars belief.'

They say some mistakes
Are accepted
Even invited as part
Of the process,
But going back
To when we first met
It seems so many
Have gone uncorrected
That you cannot forgive
Or forget.
I may as well be in love
With a ghost
With a body chalked out
On the kitchen floor.
Are you the delicate draught
On my cheek
When the window is closed?
Is it you skimming the cups and plates
Across the room?
Are you the sound of rustling leaves
When there is no tree in sight?
Do you slam a door
In the middle of the night
When I know they are all locked?
Are you moving that single cloud
Across the sky
Or is it doing it
All by itself?
Have you heard the stories
About the battles against
The barbaric hordes
That pedalled disease
Poverty and pollution?
Every night the heathens crept up
And as soon as the soldiers,
Who only had shields of faith
Swords of hope
And the armour of love
To protect themselves,
Opened their eyes
They were ****** into
The most terrible
Hand to hand fighting.
Despite overwhelming odds
The soldiers always prevailed
But they knew that from  that day forth
They would have to do it
And keep doing it
All over again.
They knew that they couldn't
Really win.
So they decided to lay down
Their weapons
And walk with outstretched arms
Towards the enemy
Come what may
They chose to embrace the fear.
Enough already!
We need less poems
At this time
And more prayers,
Or are they
The same thing?
Seventy per cent
Of the earth is love
All there is
Is all there ever was.
The love that falls on us
Once fell on the dinosaurs.
Love precipitates
And percolates.
Yours evaporated.
I can fly for starters
Bet you can't do that?
I'm not talking about
Around the garden
Try 800 miles a day.
What else? Oh yes
I can sleep with
One eye open
So, I can choose
Which side of my brain
Stays awake.
Try sneaking up
On me
You've got no chance.
And grit and sand
Don't try this at home
But I can eat them
Good for the digestion
Mating is no problem
We just hook up
Every season
Saves a lot of
And what about socks?
Don't need them
Even in the ice
And snow
My feet can't feel
The cold.
Infact I never
Have wardrobe malfunctions.
Just keep your coat
On all the time
I do, let's face it
Green, red, blue
And white
Go with most things.
Gets a bit greasy
But I can live with that.
Well I've probably
Only got another
Couple of good years
Left in me
But hey-**
It's all water
Off a duck's back.
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