Asleep in the night-time but not for everyone as sirens sound expounding life in all her glorious ways Her clock tock ticks whilst baker kneads more dough whilst printer forms the news
Where have all the years gone to Hoovers that clean alone. I'm no domestic goddess you see when he's here instead. I can't turn the mattress or make a fuss with my arm in plaster.
To have lived my life where the NHS was there to care from my cradle to my last breath. We are celebrating the 65th anniversary where everyone had free treatment. Surely a successful
I see nothing; without thinking about you as I lay in this pit of shit and gore. Mud in my nose, throat, ears and dries on my back as the bullets fly and the screams of men all around me.
It's funny where humour takes you. Memories or voices in head. Pen; frail...almost dead. Piano keys...where have they gone. It's funny where memories take you to the girl you used to be.
Dad; your still very special to me; In the wind and the sun and the rain as the years fold away into one you continue to be my someone. I was eight when I stole that jelly-baby
People hope tomorrow will be better should the letter be sent or dropped in the bin with secrets kept close to the heart. People hope for the coming of summer of clothes of various hue's
When will the summer come our way then stay till late September. Winter clothes in attic's and summer dress's down. When will our boots be out with heels and flip flops in.
I've been on the train today united in a shooting star no steam in sight or the haul of thunder. A quiet and meandering journey where bridges and lakes beseech the weary traveller