this is all a bit scarey, it's ages since I wrote anything. This is a bit of a reminisence of hristmas as a child.
Where will my busy hands take me Here at the end of the day? They’ve worked since first light of A long summer’s dawn Until, as shadows now lengthen The sky flames with sunset
I am slowly loosening my grip on the affairs of the world. Aging more each day, my mind and body are feeling tired My interests are now centred inwards, no longer inspired.