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.

Hairdressers Holiday

This little poem was written for Mary.

When I was in Oldchurch Hospital at her birth I got to know the Doctor who organised the hospital magazine and it was printed there a month or so later ( with illustrations, now lost) .

Hairdressers Holiday

When Mr. Trim the barberman steps out to take the air,

He nods his bony chin to me,but has no time to spare:

He is looking out for customers, and shudders when he sees

The tufty-headed hayricks,and the lank-haired willow-trees,

And the wild white hawthorn hedges that go rambling where they please.

When Mr. Trim the barberman is on his daily walk,

He tips his bowler-hat to me, but hasn't time to talk:

He is busy with his customers, and lifts enchanted brows

At the monkey-puzzle ringlets, and the shingled poplar-boughs,

And the neat-cropped heads of meadow trees cut short by hungry cows.