sylvia spencer Poems

Is there always a happy ending,
to every song and a story.
Some are happy, and others weep,
and then there are those,
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In this place of silence and gloom,
sits an intruder on a mossy tomb
He is a very small bird with a colourful breast,
and the crumbling graves, are his place of rest.
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My name is Primrose, I live in the east,
I am most hardy, as to say the least.
My nature is sweet, tender and mellow,
and my petals are a brightly coloured yellow.
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How bright it is on a Friday, when I am away from everything
that seems so wrong, when I am here in this haven and all the
birds are in song. It does not matter if it's winter or spring, because
I so look forward to everything.This place takes away the sadness
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This child had a Valentine,
This strange ungracious thing.
It really pleased her little heart,
and made her voice sing.
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Where is Christmas that holy night when a star shone out
so clear and bright.
Where is Christmas when a child was born and there in a
manger he lay meek and forlorn.
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Once I had a money box where I saved for a rainy day
but the funny part about it, the rain never went away.
I would put money in and then take it out, that is why
my money box always suffered with a drought.
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Buy me an Easter Egg with bunnies all around
I think you can buy them for less than a pound.
Buy me one in a basket, with a bow on top
they sell them like that, in the corner shop.
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He stood on the hill looking down over the sea,
the tide was coming in and it was time for tea.
He was not hungry so he thought he would
stay a while more, but would he get caught by the
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Birds of Britain, I watch them fly high
beautiful birds as they wing to the sky.
They are a star studded spangle of gracious
charm. A bird on a wing so peacefull and calm.
...