Category Archives: letters to a friend

the holly wreath

so i got home,and the wind yesterday has blown some of the leaves away….
taken the holly wreath down there and surprised to find I was crying.
( ah when you are under the weather things get to you……)
it will be nice to see you. the early days are hard especially this time of year.
your hat has turned into quite a project. i took it to mill to get darning wool,and it was pointed out that lots of the holes are indeed eyelets, and what a splendid hat it is.
also spoke of leaf bags and she said that if one have had the bags a while they will start to degrade…..
how much needs mending?

regrading christmas

a story nonetheless, as are others. i prefer tintin

with snowy a dog. this year you have not told me,

confided. i have the little things that could mean


not about money, more about family. it may

be time you told them.

it is time to regrade





what does this mean, about a change of bed,

clothes. everyone does it, not a big chore.


when they do not have a home

a bed. think on it. think on a

broken body, broken mind.



letter to a friend, random

nice message thank you.

yes I shall like to get to know your friends more, they are welcoming.

i like them. there is something special , the more I know her.

have a good time in oswestry, it is a pretty place.

hope your wrist improves.



who knows her name now,

times passes. why do you

paint her?

how to say a name.

one syllable or two?

we were all young then, sliding

about in troubles, growing out.

how to say a name in pictures.


they wrote of you

in public interest, fact

with fiction.


who loved you

those days in wraysbury,


who loves you now?

what shall I call you now,





we have been discussing his mother recently.

at a request from another.

‘who is my mother’. the bear whispered.

i do not know.


you came as an adult, a wise one.

you never said.

‘then i will never know?’

no, probably not, yet

i love you.

‘thank you’

whispered the bear, then went very quiet.



. boy .

he said that we will die,
as all things will die,
go back to nature.

i agreed.

he will remember me.

the whole family,
returned in the evening
cooler, cleared the hay
from the graveyard.

it was hot, so
i layed a cold
flannel on
his head.


( in respect for david alexander mcalden. my friend )

“carry your words on every day”

( initial words by wilfred. my friend. )