This may be controversial for some but it was a wicked delight to write.

On a grey Remembrance Day we prayed for soldiers lost in Hell; The drizzled tears of Time still ebbing, silvering the years. In truth I know now why I wept when all the poppy petals fell -

I wrote this after getting off the bus one evening and seeing this beautiful full moon.

There something quite still and tranquil among the lost souls in their graves, their silence is powerful washing the woes away,

Bulb which grows when cold – two spears protrude and elongate, – the year’s first noticeable growth from still, apparent death of winter's chill. A single stem extending soon,

Haunting Dreams?

The city awaits, give it all you’ve got The city takes it, pour it all out The city is an escape, get lost and found The city is whatever you want it to be