Missing

I stopped sending you presents
When I got no thanks,
Stopped writing you letters
When I got back blanks,
Yes I’ve made my mistakes,
But how my heart aches,
Just to hear a hello from you.

I stopped hoping to hear
How you got on each year,
Stopped wishing you’d call
When there were no calls at all,
I was told that you said
You don’t care if I’m dead,
But how my heart aches
Just to put both arms around you.

I stopped breathing last night,
Just for a second, in fright,
I stopped thinking that you
Will be coming home too.
No I can’t turn back clocks ,
To see what that unlocks,
but how my heart aches
Just to forget how much I miss you.

The Lanes

You just can’t beat a country lane,
Especially in the sun,
The perfect place to stretch your legs
Or set off for a run.

“You never know what’s waiting,
round the corner”, People say,
Then a stunning view appears on cue,
and takes your breath away.

The hedgerows full of busy bees,
And blue forget-me-nots!
Whilst benches found along the way
Make perfect picnic spots.

A flock of lambs are playing,
In fields along the hedge,
Beyond stone walls, where nature crawls
Up to the tarmac edge.

Divert down dusty foot paths,
Clamber over stiles,
Meet dead ends, round muddy bends,
And walk those extra miles.

Encounter long lost villages,
And country house estates,
Admire those pretty gardens
And the colour of their gates

The Lanes all lead to somewhere,
And nowhere far away,
In truth, just round the corner,
You can lose yourself all day.

Furlough

Locked down, locked in.
Taking it nervously, on the chin.
Home, whilst others work so hard,
Feeling guilty in my yard.
Who am I, I ask myself,
Left isolated on the shelf?
Keeping busy every day,
Yet worries do not go away.
Suddenly, or so it seems,
I’m not needed in the teams.
I know I shouldn’t feel this way,
When others have to work all day.
But honestly, nowhere to go,
My life is now one long furlough.

The Big One Hundred

Ground control to Captain Tom,
I hope you’ve got your glasses on.
What you’ve done is just amazing
And so very profile raising,
Yorkshire’s latest greatest favourite son.

Ground control to Colonel Tom
A hundred years, and now your number one!
You’ll never walk alone,
Through the courage that you’ve shown,
We’re so inspired, by what you’ve gone and done.

Happy 100th Birthday Sir!

My Secret Garden

In my dreams I have a garden,
Filled with scented flowers
With fountains and a waterfall,
Where I can sit for hours.

Sunny glades and grottos
That inspire me every day,
A beautiful enormous lawn,
Where children come and play.

Yet sadly, this is just a dream,
No garden do I own,
My home is in a block of flats,
I live here all alone.

But then I had this cunning plan,
And please, I ask, don’t laugh,
I’ve built my own small garden
In the bathroom, in my bath.

I ordered in the compost,
And filled it to the brim
Then planted four geraniums,
And popped a palm tree in.

I added water features
By connecting up the taps,
Into a kitchen colander
With pebbles in the gaps.

I’ve left the plug hole open,
So the water drains away,
And used the shower fixture,
so it rains a bit each day.

And Oh, I cannot tell you,
What a picture! What a view,
There’s nothing else quite like it
When I’m sitting on the loo.

The Dandy Lion

Roaring round the garden,
Dressed in his Sunday best,
Popping up in lovely lawns
And spreading out when pressed.

A splash of yellow sunshine,
Wildly roaming free,
A diuretic detox, for a
Sweeter garden pee !

Time-telling childhood blow-balls,
Torpedo on a stem,
Nice with ice and burdock
(That refreshing little gem).

A mascot for the army,
Resilient and strong.
A source of golden nectar,
For the bees all summer long.

A weedy lion for the quacks,
To take all pains away,
But most of all, a sign that it’s a
Blue sky sort of day.

The Real Virus

To “wish someone dead”
Is a terrible thing.
Humanity trashed in a post,
To tweet out such views,
In response to the news,
Is the virus we should fear the most.

This anger that boils
In the hearts of our race,
Is born from injustice and fear,
To heal this we must
Work together in trust,
Or humanity could disappear.

The anti-biotic
We urgently seek,
is “Collectively working as one”,
With a willingness to
consider each view,
and BE KINDER when all this is done.

Staying Home

Home is where the heart is,
And where we all must stay,
However hard this sounds to you,
Look on it this way:
 
The sun has started shining,
We see the flowers grow,
Our mornings seem much brighter,
And warmer winds now blow.
 
As Spring replaces Winter,
And day defeats the night,
The Earth will keep revolving
And the World will be alright

Boxing Day Blues

I’ve got those Boxing Day Blues,
Whilst my stomach reviews
All the food that I ate yesterday.
Did I really choose,
Such a vast range of booze?
My kidneys are melting away.

That one day of mirth,
Increases my girth,
Oh the food that now sits on my hips,
I’ll hope for rebirth,
and increased self-worth,
With a diet of gym memberships.

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