Fiona, you fell from a gypsy wagon and tumbled into my street where your family stayed uninvited and free for two weeks at Sixteen years of sweetness, you were bereft with shamrock eyes
Lena, you loved to draw horses in charcoal and lead at college Id watch from the seat behind as you sketched windblown withers on pointed fetlock cross shaded rump
Debbie Taylor, I remember you and it made me think of Christmas 88 you wore neon pink and florescent green lace gloves with no fingers leather jacket and purple hair dancing to Borderline
Being an Atheist at Christmas time can be quite challenging.
Under the belly of a dragon the swifts would return "Good times ahead", you’d say Next morning, we’d head for the woods walking on rainbows of bluebell and foxglove forging ahead