I stand on mountains, tall and free,
Not just by strength, but what you see.
Your kindness lifts, your light inspires,
Filling my soul with boundless fires.

The valleys low once held my fears,
But now they shimmer, calm and clear.
For every step, for every climb,
Your voice resounds - “You are divine.”

So here I stand, with skies so wide,
Heart unfurled, filled with pride.
You lift me up, you help me soar,
Now grounded strong, yet wanting more.

A whole decade, look at you,
Bright as the morning, skies so blue.
Double digits, what a feat,
A heart so kind, a soul so sweet.

The world is yours, it’s big and wide,
With dreams to chase and stars to guide.
You’re ten today, so take a bow,
The world’s your stage—your time is now.

Laughter rings where you go,
A spark of joy, a gentle glow.
The years ahead are full of light,
With love around you, shining bright.

So, here’s to you, our shining star,
Loved for who you truly are.
Happy birthday, hooray, hooray!
The world’s a brighter place today.

I can feel you looking at me*  
Through the faded colours of time,  
A specter of my past self  
Captured in creases, suspended in grain.  

Sepia sighs curl at the edges,  
Laughter trapped in silvered ink,  
Eyes full of boundless longing,  
Unaware that years would shrink.  

I run my finger along the years,  
A fragile thread, a fleeting ghost,
Did I once dream beyond this frame,  
Or did the moment hold me most?  

Yet here we stand, reflections blurred,  
The self I was, the self I bear,  
A silent nod across the years,  
A whispered thought: *I’m still in there.

I am feeling fragile today,  
Approaching two years since my wife died.  
The air is heavy with memories,  
Soft echoes of laughter carried by the tide.  

Yet through the sorrow, through the ache,  
I lean into the Lord, my guide.  
He shelters me like a mighty fortress,  
His love a flame that never dies.  

When grief’s weight presses on my chest,  
And tears fall silent in the night,  
He whispers softly through the darkness,  
Turning shadows into light.  

I was broken, I was weary,  
Yet He held me, He restored me.  
With each step, though trembling, though torn,  
He walks beside me, strong and steady.  

His arms unseen, yet deeply felt,  
A refuge when my strength is small.  
In Him, my sorrow finds surrender,  
In Him, my heart stands tall.  

I move forward, though brittle, though worn,  
Yet never truly alone I roam.  
For in His grace, His boundless love,  
I find my strength - I find my home.

Silent sentinels, they stand so tall,
Guardians of secrets, behind each wall.
Crafted with care, forged in steel,
A silent promise, a hidden seal.

They whisper softly, "Stay away,"
To those who wander, to those who stray.
Not for the thief, with cunning and guile,
But for the honest, with a trusting smile.

For locks are not to keep the wicked at bay,
Their clever hands find another way.
But to shield the truth from the pure of heart,
To keep them safe, to keep them apart.

A barrier strong, a silent plea,
"Do not enter, let it be."
For in the depths, where shadows play,
The honest soul must stay away.

So they stand, in the dark and light,
Silent sentinels, through day and night.
Not for the thief, with eyes so keen,
But for the honest, unseen, serene.

In the heart of our church, a gathering so dear,
Seniors came together, spreading Easter cheer.
Tracey and Caris, with voices pure and sweet,
Sang songs of joy, making the day complete.

Caris at the piano, her fingers danced with grace,
Filling the room with melodies, a warm embrace.
Curry’s staff with smiles, served lunch with care,
Their kindness and service, beyond compare.

Phil's quiz on Easter, a challenge for the mind,
Three rounds of questions, answers to find.
Laughter and learning, a joyous blend,
In the spirit of Easter, hearts to mend.

No cost to attend, just love freely shared,
A community united, showing they cared.
Easter blessings abound, in every smile and song,
A lunch to remember, where all hearts belong.

Boots opens its doors, a quiet sanctuary of care,
The hum of morning settles, soft as whispers in the air.
A clock ticks steady, and so do I, for a check once a year,
To hear what’s changed - or hasn’t - in the rhythms of my ear.

The audiologist greets with a steady grin,
Tools in hand, ready to begin.
A soundwave symphony, a careful refrain,
And he reveals: my hearing’s barely changed again.

We laugh at my quirks, left more than right,
"A bit in the middle keeps you in the fight!"
“Well,” I grin, “I’m balanced, I suppose,”
In a world of echoes, quirks, and prose.

This place, this test, reminds me anew
To listen well to the life breaking through.
Barely changed but steady still, my ears hold the tune,
In this room at Boots, under the morning moon.