Nicholas Windle Biography

The cottage now lies empty, and overgrown with weeds,
A large walled garden at the rear, long past has gone to seed.
Many tiles have fallen off, broken gutters and hanging gate,
Doors and many windows, with cracked and peeling paint.
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Final thoughts.

Oh mighty sun you rise once more,
Bringing forth a brand new day.
...

From blade of grass to the tip of twig,
The white dust of winter fall’s.
Frenzied flakes move in lost abandonment,
Finally pitch on fence and wall’s.
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As the never world awaits me,
The lord darkness, his cloak now draped.
Haunting images that appear in dreams,
Invade the subconscious, till again I wake
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A silhouetted lengthen form,
Came from out the morning sun.
As my eyes adjust to its savage glare,
I knew you are the one.
...