I cannot remember a time when I did not write poetry. I can remember finding this in my daughter's book when she was 7:-
'It is snowing, it is glistening,
It is time for Jesus' christening'
and thinking 'chip off the old block!'.
There will be poems from other sources too,all acknowledged.
For Phyllis
Autumn Leaves
Dropping into the silence of the wood,
Dipping a golden curtsey to the dark,
Lighting a brief and solitary spark,
Dear autumn leaves,your courage does us good:
Reminding us that, through the blackest night,
Others have made their way with braver faces,
To set their tiny flames in shadowed places;
And ---see! Where darkness was, is candle-light....
This was written in my head in the car as George and I drove down to Saffron Walden to visit his mother.
She was terminally ill with cancer, and was so cheerful and brave that she was an example to us all.
Hence this little tribute. A lovely lady....
