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.

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