marching years wear
furrows in our faces,
pits and wan hollows
no denying the traces
our faces look like hell
wrinkles so eerily bold
yet our hearts are kids
that'll never grow old
your skin was like honey
hair smoother than silk
hands, soft and tender
shoulders white as milk
honey and silk no more,
hands crabbed and bent,
shoulders thin and...
Sunday 22nd November 2020 11:12 am
At the end of the garden,by the big old oak
Hidden away from inquisitve eyes,
Is a dwelling place for the little folk
usually mistaken for butterflies!
The flowers grow higher, the grass much more sweet,
a soft green carpet under your feet.
It's easy to miss them, not clearly in sight,
the time they enjoy most, is quite late at night!
You see, they are cautious, and da...
Friday 8th April 2016 1:40 pm