Drop a dream into the water,
In a moment it is gone.
But there are many ripples,
Circling on and on....
The last leaf on the tree,
Is the strongest of them all.
Resisting frosts and winds,
So determined not to fall.
The shouts of children playing,
Bring back my happy youth.
To recall the time I was ten,
And lost a good front tooth.
In a poet's book,
Poetry is king.
Poems of hope,
Are revealed within
A tall white Birch reared its stately form,
High in the path of the oncoming storm.
Its long, lacy leaves, in sad disarray,
Tangled and knotted with each swing and sway.
On the golden fields of Heaven,
In the shade of immortal white towers.
By life's clear river dwelling,
And amid undying flowers.
Time to get my arse in gear!
Time to break out of my doldrums!
Time to write dark imagination!
Time enough for wickedness comes...
Miss Goody Two Shoes.
No, not that one teen paedophile slicing slaughterhouse.
She's out of the country.
She's teamed up with The Lady Killer.
I gift to you,
A soothing dream.
A dream to cherish,
A dream to gleam.
Poor, lone, Emma.
Old, faded and wrinkled.
Bright eyed beauty once was she,
When the bloom was on the tree.