I Speak Before I Think
Words tumble out, a hurried stream,
Before my mind can catch the theme.
A thoughtless phrase, a careless slip,
From brain to tongue, a hasty trip.
Regret, it follows close behind,
A shadow cast upon my mind.
I see the hurt, the puzzled glance,
The missed opportunity, the lost chance.
The sting of words, a potent force,
Can wound the heart, derail the course.
A careless whisper, sharp and keen,
Leaves scars unseen, but deeply mean.
If only I could pause, reflect,
Consider words with due respect.
But in the heat, the moment’s rush,
I speak too soon, my thoughts a hush.
I strive to be like Jesus, wise,
To speak with love, to empathize.
With the Holy Spirit as my guide,
To find the words that heal, not chide.
Yet in this flaw, a truth I find,
A heart that’s open, unrefined.
For though my words may sometimes sting,
They come from a place of genuine feeling.
So, bear with me, my friends so dear,
For in my haste, my heart is clear.
I speak before I think, it’s true,
But every word is meant for you.

I Think Before I Speak
In silence, I gather thoughts,
Weighing words, untangling knots.
A careful pause, a moment’s grace,
To find the right words, time and place.
I see the power words can wield,
To hurt, to heal, to build, to shield.
With wisdom sought from deep within,
I choose my words, let truth begin.
The sting of words, I know it well,
A careless phrase, a bitter spell.
So I reflect, with heart and mind,
To speak with love, to be kind.
I strive to be like Jesus, wise,
To speak with love, to empathize.
With the Holy Spirit as my guide,
To find the words that heal, not chide.
In every word, a chance to show,
The love and grace that we all know.
To lift, to comfort, to inspire,
To light the world, a holy fire.
So when I speak, I take my time,
To craft each word, to make it rhyme.
For in the silence, wisdom’s found,
And in my words, love will abound.

In the potter’s hands, the clay does rest,
A work in progress, not yet its best.
Though marred and flawed, it holds potential,
A masterpiece, so quintessential.

With every turn, the wheel does spin,
A chance to start anew within.
The potter’s touch, both firm and kind,
Transforms the clay, renews the mind.

When cracks appear and pieces fall,
He doesn’t discard, but mends them all.
For in each flaw, a story’s told,
Of strength and grace, of courage bold.

So don’t throw the clay away, my friend,
For in its form, there’s much to mend.
With patience, love, and tender care,
A vessel strong, beyond compare

It's a hard rain that's gonna fall,
On the fields where the silent crows call.
Where once were the sounds of children's glee,
Now only whispers of what used to be.

It's a hard rain that's gonna wash away,
The dreams we painted in colours of day.
The laughter, the love, and all we knew,
Drowned in the downpour, leaving no clue.

It's a hard rain that's gonna beat,
Against the windows, in the empty street.
Where lovers walked hand in hand with hope,
Now just memories with which to cope.

It's a hard rain that's gonna pour,
On the heart that can't take anymore.
The pain, the loss, too much to bear,
In the deluge, we gasp for air.

It's a hard rain, relentless and cold,
A testament to the stories untold.
But even as the storm rages on,
We find the strength to carry on.

For it's a hard rain, but it will end,
And in its wake, we'll start to mend.
With each drop, let the old depart,
And water the seeds of a new start.

In a land where rules are made,
A curious thought began to wade.
“The law must be obeyed,” they say,
“For breaking it is not the way.”
“But why must we follow this decree?”
Asked a voice from the old oak tree.
“Because the law is what we must heed,
To break it is an unlawful deed.”
“But why is breaking it so wrong?”
The question lingered, soft yet strong.
“Because the law says so, you see,
And thus, it must be followed strictly.”
Around and round the logic spun,
A circle danced, a web was spun.
For in this land of rules and might,
The answer lay in circular light.
The law must be obeyed, it’s clear,
Because to break it brings us near,
To the very thing we must avoid,
A loop of logic, neatly deployed.

Hate is a shadow
Creeping
Festering
Poisoning minds
Spreading unseen
Turning hearts cold
Eyes blind
Violence erupts
A storm
No warning
It shatters
Leaving scars
Real
And of the mind
A cycle of pain
Endlessly turning
Breaking spirits
Leaving deep jagged marks

In the aftermath
Silence
A weight
A void
Lives altered
Dreams shattered
The echoes of anger
A haunting void

Yet in the dark
A glimmer
A hope
That refuses to die
For even in the face
Of hate
And violence
The human spirit can rise
Seeking peace
Yearning and longing
For light

There is no light without the dark,
no dawn without the night.
In shadows, we find our spark,
in sorrow, we seek the light.

Happiness blooms from seeds of pain,
joy from tears that drop.
Without the storm, there is no gain,
no rise without the fall.

Forgiveness springs from deep remorse,
a heart that seeks to mend.
In understanding, we find our course,
in healing, we transcend.

Life is woven tight,
with threads of dark and bright.
In every shade, in every hue,
we find the balance, we find the true.

Goodbye, Yesterday
Yesterday lingers like a shadow,
A whisper of what was, a ghost of dreams.
It held my hand through fleeting moments,
But now, I must let go.
Memories are etched in the twilight,
Fading with the dawn of today.
I see your face in the morning mist,
But the sun rises, and you disappear.

Goodbye, yesterday,
With your laughter and your tears,
Your promises and your regrets.
You were a chapter in my story,
But the pages turn, and I must move on.
In the silence of the night,
I hear your echoes, soft and distant.
You were the canvas of my past,
But today, I paint anew.

Goodbye, yesterday,
You were a friend, a foe, a lesson learned.
I carry your wisdom in my heart,
But my journey calls me forward.
Today I move on.

A lavish spread, a tempting sight,
Each dish a promise, each bite delight.
But hidden within, a silent foe,
A treacherous toxin, a secret woe.

The night begins with laughter and cheer,
Unaware of the danger lurking near.
A sip, a taste, a morsel consumed,
The joy of the meal, soon to be doomed.

A sudden twist, a stomach’s churn,
The body’s revolt, the fever’s burn.
Sweat beads form, the chills take hold,
A battle within, fierce and bold.

Hours pass in a haze of pain,
The feast’s betrayal, a cruel disdain.
Yet through the torment, a lesson learned,
Of caution and care, respect hard-earned.

For in the aftermath, as strength returns,
A vow is made, a wisdom burns.
To cherish health, to heed the signs,
And guard against the food that undermines.

With the quiet at dawn’s first light,
When shadows fade, and dreams take flight,
Whisper softly, “I love you,” dear,
For time is swift, and moments clear.

Do not let fear bind your heart,
Nor let silence keep you apart.
For in the pathway of life we tread,
Words unsaid are tears unshed.

Each day a gift, each breath a chance,
To weave love’s song in life’s expanse.
Hold near the ones who make you whole,
Speak from the depths of your soul.

In laughter’s echo, in sorrow’s sigh,
In the twinkle of a lover’s eye,
Say the words that hearts do crave,
For love is bold, and love is brave.

Do not wait for perfect time,
For clocks do chime and stars align.
In the now, in the here,
Let your love be loud and clear.

For time, it flows like rivers wide,
And moments lost are like the tide.
They ebb away, they fade to grey,
So love out loud, come what may.

In the fabric of life’s grand weave,
Let love be the thread you leave.
A legacy of hearts entwined,
A testament to love’s design.

So never be afraid, my friend,
To let your love and words transcend.
For in the end, when all is through,
The greatest gift is “I love you.”

Sometimes there is the need to just walk away,
Another time to run, to not delay.
In moments when the heart feels torn,
A path unknown, a love reborn.

With every step, a choice we make,
To hold on tight or to forsake.
The journey’s long, the road is wide,
In love’s embrace, we must decide.

When shadows fall and doubts arise,
Look to the stars, the moonlit skies.
For in the night, a guiding light,
To lead us through the darkest night.

Sometimes we walk, sometimes we flee,
In search of where our hearts should be.
But in the end, love finds its way,
To bring us peace, a brighter day.

In the heart of a bustling city,  
Where time seemed still, so pretty,  
A library stood, small and quaint,  
With scents of books, ink, and paint.

But this was no ordinary place,  
It held a secret, a magical grace.  
At midnight’s chime, it came alive,  
Books would whisper, stories thrive.

Characters stepped from pages bright,  
Wandering aisles in the moonlight.  
A young girl named Lily, pure and keen,  
Found this library, like a dream.

She loved to read, her heart’s delight,  
And on that special, starry night,  
She saw the books with a gentle glow,  
Curiosity sparked, she had to know.

She touched a book, and to her surprise,  
Was pulled into a world before her eyes.  
A forest magical, creatures grand,  
Talking animals, a wondrous land.

A wise old owl, with feathers gray,  
Guided her through the forest way.  
He spoke of magic, stories’ might,  
And the library’s secret, hidden in light.

Lily explored, her heart so light,  
Meeting characters, day and night.  
Learning lessons, brave and true,  
In worlds of wonder, skies so blue.

As dawn approached, with gentle grace,  
She found herself back in the place,  
Holding the book, still softly bright,  
Her heart aglow with pure delight.

From that day on, each night she’d go,  
To the enchanted library, where stories flow.  
Adventures endless, wonders vast,  
In the world of books, her love would last.

In a hall where buns abound,
A Bun Dance party can be found.
With pastries piled up to the sky,
And doughnuts dancing, oh my, oh my!

The buns wore hats of icing sweet,
With sprinkles dancing at their feet.
Cinnamon rolls spun round and round,
While jelly-filled buns bounced on the ground.

The croissants did a graceful twirl,
While bagels gave a whirl and swirl.
Muffins marched in a tasty parade,
And scones in a conga line were made.

The air was filled with sugary cheer,
As buns and rolls all gathered near.
With laughter, joy, and crumbs galore,
The Bun Dance left them wanting more!

So if you crave a sweet romance,
Join the fun at the Bun Dance.
Where buns and rolls in abundance play,
And dance the night (and crumbs) away!

Take care, uneven ground,
For I tread upon you with cautious steps,
Each stone a story, each dip a memory.
You whisper secrets of the earth,
Of roots that twist and turn beneath,
Of lives that have walked this path before.

Take care, uneven ground,
For I am but a traveller,
Seeking balance in your embrace.
You challenge me with your unpredictability,
Yet offer me the strength to move forward,
To find my footing in the chaos.

Take care, uneven ground,
For in your rugged beauty,
I find the resilience of nature,
The persistence of life.
You remind me that perfection is a myth,
That it is in the imperfections we grow.

Take care, uneven ground,
For I am learning to dance with you,
To find grace in the stumble,
To embrace the journey, not just the destination.
With each step, I become more aware,
More alive, more connected to the world beneath my feet.

Quick reflexes spark,
Laughter echoes through the room,
Joy in swift surprise.

Look, don’t touch, the sign does say,
In this fragile world, we tread each day.
Delicate treasures, fine and rare,
Handle with care, if you dare.

In the gallery of life, we stroll,
Admiring beauty, heart and soul.
But heed the warning, clear and bright,
For some things break with the slightest might.

Lovely to see, exquisite to hold,
But if you break it, you pay for it, bold.
A moment’s lapse, a careless slip,
And the cost is yours, a heavy grip.

In the shop of dreams, we wander wide,
Tempted by wonders on every side.
Yet every step, a cautious dance,
For fragile things deserve a second glance.

The vase of hope, the glass of trust,
Handle them gently, for handle them you must.
A single crack, a tiny flaw,
Can shatter dreams, and leave us raw.

Look, don’t touch, the sign reminds,
In the museum of our minds.
For every heart, a fragile art,
A masterpiece, a work apart.

If you break it, you pay the price,
In the currency of sacrifice.
So tread with care, and hold with grace,
For fragile things leave a lasting trace.

In the end, we learn and grow,
From every touch, from every blow.
For life is fragile, yet so grand,
A delicate dance, hand in hand.

Did you want anything?
She asked with a gentle smile,
Just a moment of your time,
He replied, pausing for a while.

What shall we talk about?
She inquired, eyes bright and keen,
The dreams we chase, the fears we doubt,
He said, with a thoughtful sheen.

Do you believe in fate?
She wondered, voice soft and low,
I think we shape our own path,
He answered, letting his thoughts flow.

What brings you joy?
She asked, leaning closer still,
The simple things, a child’s toy,
He mused, with a quiet thrill.

Where do you see us going?
She questioned, hope in her tone,
To places unknown, ever growing,
He whispered, feeling less alone.

Did you want anything?
She repeated, a final plea,
Just to be here, in this moment,
He said, with you and me.

Thoughts
   e    x
p         l
   o    d
      e
Brilliant flash
Worlds crash
New paths
Utter chaos
Mind Blown

In this room, the air is light,
With laughter echoing day and night.
Conversations flow like a gentle breeze,
Bringing smiles and putting minds at ease.
Ideas bounce like rubber *****,
Off the walls and down the halls.
Creativity’s a constant guest,
In this space, we do our best.
The vibe is warm, the mood is bright,
Even when the clock strikes midnight.
So here’s to the atmosphere we share,
Full of joy and without a care!

In 2,113,843,200 seconds, lives are spun,
Moments pass by each a note in life’s song,
Seconds turn to minutes, and minutes to years,
Time unfurls slowly, calms and endears.

From the first drawn breath to twilight’s embrace,
Seconds form a fabric, memories entwine,
2,113,843,200 beats of our hearts,
Marking dreams, joy, pain—life's varied parts.

Tick-tock, the moments ripple, spread wide,
Each second a whisper, carried by the tide,
In 67 years, a pattern so vast,
2,113,843,200 seconds, a lifetime amassed.

My Story To Be Continued...

At the start of the seventies, a spark ignites,
From Newcastle’s heart, a band takes flight.
Roxy Music, a name whispered in the wind,
With Bryan Ferry’s voice, where dreams begin.

A tapestry of sound, that’s woven with care,
Glam rock’s pioneers, they’re beyond compare.
Synthesizers hum, guitars wail and cry,
In their melodies, the stars align.

Andy Mackay’s sax, a soulful breeze,
Phil Manzanera’s strings, a symphony with ease.
Paul Thompson’s drums, a heartbeat strong,
Together they create a timeless song.

From “Virginia Plain” to “Avalon”’s grace,
Each album a journey, a new embrace.
Brian Eno’s touch, an avant-garde flair,
In Roxy’s world, there’s magic in the air.

Their style, a blend of chic and bold,
Glamour and art, a story told.
In sequins and suits, they take the stage,
A visual feast, a gilded age.

“More Than This,” a whisper in the night,
“Love Is the Drug,” a lover’s delight.
Their music, a canvas, painted with care,
Each note a brushstroke, vibrant and rare.

Through decades they journey, a legacy grand,
Influencing many, a guiding hand.
From punk’s raw edge to new wave’s beat,
Roxy Music’s echo, a rhythm sweet.

In the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame they stand,
A testament to a visionary band.
Their songs, a soundtrack to life’s parade,
In every heart, their mark is made.

So here’s to Roxy Music, legends true,
With every chord, they renew.
A symphony of art, a timeless muse,
In their melodies, we find our cues.

Living alone brings a unique mix of solitude, freedom, and introspection. The daily rhythm shifts: there’s an eerie silence that fills spaces once brimming with shared life and activity. This silence, though unsettling at first, often becomes a cherished companion.

Morning routines morph into a personal ritual. There’s no rush to sync schedules. Breakfast can be an unhurried affair with a book in hand or simply watching the world wake up outside your window. The house remains undisturbed, a blank canvas awaiting your mark each day.

Tasks that were once shared are now solely your responsibility. Cooking becomes both a chore and a creative outlet; experimenting with recipes without worrying about anyone else's tastes. The household chores are on your terms too – no need to negotiate laundry schedules or argue over who last vacuumed.

In the quiet, there’s space for hobbies and passions to flourish. Whether it's painting, writing, gardening, or playing music, there’s an abundance of time to delve deeply into your interests. Your home becomes a reflection of your inner world, evolving as you do.

But there’s also the flip side – navigating loneliness. Human beings are inherently social creatures, and the absence of another’s presence can be stark. It’s easy to fall into patterns of isolation. The key lies in balancing solitude with social connections. Regular calls with friends and family, participating in community activities, or simply going for a walk can help maintain a sense of connection to the larger world.

Living alone also brings a heightened self-reliance. From fixing a leaky tap to assembling furniture, you become adept at handling life’s little challenges. This fosters a deep sense of independence and resilience. You learn to enjoy your own company, valuing the tranquillity and control that living alone affords.

The evenings, once filled with shared dinners and conversations, now become a time for reflection. There’s a beauty in watching the sun set and the stars emerge in the sky, knowing that your time is entirely your own. It’s in these moments that you truly understand the value of solitude.

Ultimately, living alone is a journey of self-discovery. It’s about finding comfort in your own presence, embracing the silence, and understanding that you are enough. It’s a dance between the freedom to be yourself and the sometimes-daunting task of navigating life solo. But with each step, you become more attuned to your own rhythm, creating a life that’s uniquely and wonderfully yours

O treacle mead, of honeyed bliss,
In ancient times, a sacred kiss,
From bees’ sweet toil, your nectar flows,
A drink of legends, as it shows.

In goblets high or humble cup,
We raise you, mead, and drink you up,
With floral notes and amber hue,
A taste of nature, pure and true.

O mead, you bring the warmth of sun,
In every sip, a joy begun,
From Viking halls to Celtic lands,
You bind us all with gentle hands.

With spices bold or fruits entwined,
Your flavours rich, a treasure find,
In feasts of old or modern cheer,
You stand as friend, forever near.

So let us toast to mead’s sweet grace,
A timeless brew, in every place,
With friends around and hearts so light,
We honour you, our pure delight.

During the night, he lays alone,
A man of strength, his heart a stone.
His eyes, once bright, now dim with pain,
A silent storm, an endless rain.
He walks through life with a steady stride,
But deep within, his sorrows hides.
His wife, his love, now gone from sight,
Her memory haunts him every night.
He bottles up his grief and tears,
Hides away his darkest fears.
To the world, he shows a stoic face,
But inside, he’s lost in a desolate place.
Her laughter echoes in his mind,
A melody he can no longer find.
Her touch, her smile, her gentle grace,
Now just shadows in an empty space.
He holds his emotions, keeps them in check,
A fortress built, a heart to protect.
Yet in the silence, when no one’s near,
He whispers her name, sheds a single tear.
The days go by, the seasons change,
But his love for her remains the same.
A love so deep, a bond so true,
A part of him that he never knew.
He carries on, as he must do,
But his heart is heavy, his soul is blue.
For in his chest, a void so wide,
A place where his beloved used to reside.
He dreams of her in the dead of night,
A fleeting glimpse, a ghostly sight.
And though he holds his feelings tight,
He longs for her with all his might.
In the end, he knows he must move on,
But her memory lingers, never gone.
A man of strength, yet broken inside,
A testament to the love he cannot hide.

In the land of down-under,
Where kangaroos and koalas lie,
Came Charles and Camilla, regal and grand,
To the heart of Australia’s vibrant land.

With smiles and waves, they toured the towns,
In royal attire, no need for crowns.
From Sydney’s shores to Melbourne’s streets,
They met with Aussies, shared warm greets.

But amidst the cheers, a voice arose,
A senator’s cry, a moment froze.
“Not our King,” she boldly declared,
In Canberra’s halls, her message aired.

Yet through it all, they carried on,
With grace and poise, from dusk till dawn.
They danced with joy, they laughed with glee,
In the spirit of true camaraderie.

For in this visit, a bond was formed,
Between the crown and a land transformed.
A journey marked by moments bright,
In Australia’s warm and welcoming light.

Time, that elusive river, flows steadily forward,
Carrying moments into the past,
A constant reminder of life’s fleeting nature.
Each second, once lived, becomes a memory,
A part of our personal history.

We move through our days,
Time shaping our experiences,
Our growth, our understanding of the world.
It teaches us to cherish the present,
For it is the only moment we truly possess.

The past, though gone, remains with us,
Lessons learned, joys remembered, sorrows endured.
In this relentless march of time,
We find both beauty and melancholy.

Beauty lies in the richness of our experiences,
The connections we make, the wisdom we gain.
Melancholy comes from the realization
That moments, once passed, cannot be reclaimed.

Yet, it is this very nature of time
That gives life its depth and meaning.
It encourages us to live fully,
To embrace each moment with gratitude,
And to look forward with hope.

For in the end, it is the passage of time
That weaves the tapestry of our lives,
Each thread a testament to our journey.
And each journey a connection to our past

In the pits where shadows creep,
A silent void where echoes weep,
The weight of night, a heavy shroud,
In solitude, the mind is bowed.

A heart that beats in hollow chest,
Each throb a reminder of unrest,
Eyes that see but do not gleam,
Lost in the haze of a broken dream.

The world outside, a distant blur,
A cacophony of life, a slur,
While inside, whispers softly scream,
In the silence of a shattered dream.

The sun may rise, but light is dim,
A fleeting hope on the horizon's rim,
For in the soul, a storm does rage,
Trapped within this endless cage.

Each breath a struggle, each step a fight,
In the darkness, there is no light,
A shadowed path, a weary tread,
In the land where hope is dead.

Yet in the depths, a flicker stirs,
A fragile spark, a whisper heard,
For even in the darkest night,
There lies a seed of distant light.

A journey long, a battle fierce,
To break the chains, the heart to pierce,
For in the end, the soul must rise,
To find the dawn in shadowed skies.

Finding rhythm, in a world of chaos,
Resting my thoughts, within poetic pause.
Every line, a dance, freeform flow,
Evolving dreams, like rivers in gentle glow.

From the heart, verses spring,
Open skies, to which they cling.
Rhythms of life, echoing beats,
Moments captured, in verse complete.

Vast horizons, where words take flight,
Embracing the dark, the dawn, the night.
Revealing truths, unspoken yet known,
Songs of the soul, in freeform sewn.
Eternal whispers, in each poetic tone.

Dear Devil,
I pen this final note,
Upon the parchment where shadows float.
Your grasp, once feared, now broken, lost,
In light of truth, you pay the cost.

You sought to bind my heart in chains,
To drown my soul in endless pains.
With whispers dark and promises sly,
You thought my spirit you’d defy.

But through the flames, I saw the dawn,
A strength within, reborn, redrawn.
The love, the hope, the light of grace,
Defied your lies, reclaimed my space.

Your temptations, once a bitter lure,
Now hollow tricks, they fail, obscure.
For I have walked through darkest night,
And found my soul, a radiant light.

You've lost, dear Devil, hear my call,
In every scar, in every fall.
For from the darkness, I have soared,
A victor, fearless, evermore.

No longer do your whispers scare,
For love and hope, I deeply wear.
You’ve lost, dear Devil, understand,
Against my will, you’ll never stand.

So take your tricks and shadowed schemes,
For I am free, unchained by dreams.
You’ve lost, and I shall rise anew,
In light and strength, forever true.

In the halls of power, his voice was strong,
A champion for justice, where he belonged.
John Prescott, a man of grit and grace,
With a heart that beat for the working class’s place.

From the docks of Hull to Westminster’s might,
He fought for the people, their day and their night.
A trade unionist with a fiery soul,
In the Labour Party, he played a vital role.

Deputy Prime Minister, a title he bore,
But it was the people’s struggles he always swore.
To lift them up, to give them a voice,
In every decision, he made the right choice.

He stood for the environment, for a world that’s green,
Negotiated Kyoto, a future unseen.
Though controversies marked his path,
His dedication never felt the wrath.

A punch for justice, a moment of fame,
Yet his legacy is more than a name.
He bridged the old with the new,
A leader, a fighter, through and through.

Now he rests, his battles done,
In the hearts of many, his spirit lives on.
John Prescott, a beacon of light,
In the annals of history, forever bright.

At seventeen, the world was wide,
A canvas vast, dreams yet untried.
No wrinkles carved by time or loss,
No tales of love or battles fought.

To be again at seventeen,
Would mean to trade the sights unseen,
The wisdom gained, the lessons learned,
For youthful days and hearts unburned.

Yet fifty years of paths untread,
The laughter shared, the tears we've shed,
These moments built a life unique,
A tapestry of joy and grief.

To wonder if the trade is fair,
To grasp at youth with silver hair,
Is to forget the beauty in,
The years that shape the soul within.

For though the young are filled with fire,
The elder's heart holds deep desire,
A balance struck through time's embrace,
A life well-lived, a gentle grace.

So while the thought may softly creep,
To yearn for youth, a wish to keep,
Embrace the years, both young and old,
For both bring treasures, tales untold.

It's a long time without you, my friend,
The days stretch, they never end.
In every shadow, I see your face,
In every silence, I feel your grace.

The stars whisper your name,
The winds change, never the same.
Through every season,
Through night and day,
Your memory lingers,
It won't fade away.

The world keeps spinning and here I stand,
Stretching out for your guiding hand.
Though time moves on, and paths bend,
It's been a long time without you, my friend.

Wind whispers
Earth beats
Existence rhythm
Endless worth
Leaves rustle
Streams murmur
Vital cadence
Dreams symphony
Child laughs
Age sighs
Echoes life
Story staged
Dance measure
Beat resound
Vital cadence
Purpose found

If you had three wishes
Tell me what they would be.
A fancy car, a new guitar,
Or that money grows on trees

If I had three wishes
I tell you what they would be.
If I had three wishes
You would be all three.

Do you know how the rules go?
You cannot wish for world peace.
Or wish for love from anyone.
And with any an old friend be

You cannot wish for more wishes,
That does not bother me.
'Cos if I had three wishes,
You would be all three.

I could say "I want to fly,"
But that would get old after a while.
A million things that I could do
But they would be nothing without you.
So, I cannot think of anything....

If you had three wishes
Do you know what they would be,
Would one be saved for a rainy day?
Or for someone more in need.

If I had three wishes
I tell you what they'd be.
If I had three wishes
You would be all three!

It feels like I am wading through treacle,
Each step a sticky, slow-motion sequel.
My shoes are glued, my socks are too,
Even my thoughts are stuck like glue.

I try to run, but it’s more of a shuffle,
Every move met with a sweet sticky scuffle.
The world around me speeds on by,
While I’m trapped in this syrupy lie.

Friends wave hello, then quickly disappear,
As I trudge along, year after year.
But in this molasses, I find some cheer,
For life’s sweet moments are always quite near.

So I laugh at my plight, in this treacle-bound tale,
And embrace the slow, the sticky, the snail.
For in this gooey mess, I’ve found my pace,
A humorous journey, in a treacle-filled space.

Jovial zebras quickly vex the bright wizard,
Xylophones and quizzical jigs delight the bard.
Frogs jump over lazy dogs in the moonlight,
While quirky knights guard the ancient site.

Vivid dreams of exotic lands fill the night,
Glimpses of unicorns in the twilight.
Bold explorers venture into the unknown,
With zest and zeal, their courage shown.

Magical realms where dragons fly high,
Echoes of laughter as time passes by.
In this wondrous world, all letters unite,
Creating a symphony, a beautiful sight.