i often drop in when i am passing on my way
up northish. the conwy valley. he always asks
if i am surviving.
i try to say just yes, while thinking of the titanic.
or thinking that
i do not make it for money, and have several
i just say yes,
i am surviving.
they are nice lads, work hard to survive.
a garden in regret yesterday before the mist cleared.
leeks in bundles while a lone robin sat her eggs, soft
sun came, so we went up to see the churchyard cleared
a flower festival.
sea fret in by six. today the sky has lifted early.
most of the books are gone, to children
or to charity. there are watches settled
few of the stylish garments left, kept for
there is a cabinet, of course, with two catapults,
one bought, one home made.
kept with all the papers.
david & goliath.
did you dream of evil last night, for evil it was.
pocked, bleeding and dead. back broken.
this morning the garden is damp, a mole died
plans for a new path are growing, yet there was
a shortened version of blackberry pips, and phillip. she made
me bread, a reject of her former days. with banana and flour.
cake is good for you it has eggs , not sure how many .
he seems to write different now, i wish that i did, i do try and
sometimes it works.
the pips do their job, sticking round teeth, helping us go natural.
i found one in my ear.
ah the sea, the sand, it comes in bottles now, dearer than the cheaper stuff.
i had not met her before, went in on the off chance. waited a while till she
she did it different, said nice things about my skin. in a small way she gave
i bought the quiche, sat in the cathedral grounds.
used the salt spray, and did not die.
there is no number on my gate, the house has a name. the lane
liking labels, i also like numbers on things, denoting nothing
she once said that though the name sounds romantic in it’s
it does not. she is correct.
the box is emptied, found numbers hid to please us, come
a worry is will the colour run, & if it does will we mind ?
the larger road here is also numbered, and lettered. a470.
i come to you each month to leave a prayer to be said. i have no faith yet live in hope. #chestercathedral
look at mosaics, oh absalom, my son, my son.
wonder where the justice is. i come to think on things. each time i am challenged as to my reasons, & do i have a ticket?
it is enough to put some off from visiting at all. only the brave. thank you.
pray for them, all is in disorder.
archaic or dialect question, in appropriate. a lowly start
with slight misgivings, i come arrived from the country, an immigrant
if the task came to me unlikely, i should sew profusely. a safe bet in that
something grows decently.
do you know how to stitch a lie, when all about grow honesty? mine was
white last year,
now nothing germinates.
the question is irreverent, no disrespect meant. forgive me, this is the second
time. this time,
i shall stay.
despite my nationality.