A Bed of Flowers

An image

Of the season’s

First daffodils

Brings a lump to

My throat.

A rebirth

That springs from the soil,

A smile to brighten

The winter gloom –

A reminder

That life

Is not

Diminished

By being within

The earth.

A yellow glow

Suffuses the

stone cross

And the lantern

Promises

Illumination

When the way

Is dark.

Sleep well,

On this

Mothering  Sunday

Your Mother

Brings you flowers…

daffodils

Buzzled

Little furry buzzy bee
I saw you immobilized
There by the French doors and I
Thought I may be able to
Revive you with a little
Sugar water – I do hope
I didn’t drown you instead…

Buzzy Bee

Ode to a Toad

I saw you there
And stopped to exchange
Just a word or two.
You didn’t reply
But then I didn’t
Really expect you to,
So I passed on
And left you to your
Silent reverie.

Today you were
Still there – surrounded
By potentially
Tasty morsels but
You took no notice…
And you looked thinner…
I picked you up,
Moved you to somewhere
Where you could
Rest in peace.
croaked frog

One Year On…

Scooby on a family camping trip to the mainland. He was so excited to have been included that he didn’t mind at all being put on a lead for mealtimes along with his three canine companions.
He was one of the family – taken into the fold and cherished as much as if he were one of the children. Found abandoned on the streets of Newport to fend for himself, once he realised that he was with us to stay he soon made himself at home.
We miss him.
One year today…
DSCF0027

Cherished

Making a book
Filled with
Pictures of angels
And, most poignant of all,
A letter in a childish hand
Filled with
Love and sadness;
Filling me with sadness
As I read of one girl’s
Love for her sibling.
Then I go home and am
Moved to tears by
Their mother’s link
On a Facebook page.
Treasure,
Cherish
Every single moment
Of this life we are given,
They pass in a blink even if
They run their natural course.
How then can we waste a
Single
Precious
Heartbeat?

 

Spirit

MWM
Bittersweet late Christmas present…
…………….
First day of the Spring term and a bag full of presents greets me on the table at the back of the class. I couldn’t come in on the day we broke up – these offerings have sat patiently, biding their time until today. When I get home I sit and unwrap them.
Chocolates by the ton and body cream, vouchers and candles, my lovely class, still the presents come…wine and a beautiful Guardian Angel to sit and watch over me. I leave one until last. The child is away, mourning the loss of her sister and we grieve for her grief. I open her gift, carefully wrapped and thoughtfully chosen. I am ‘someone special’, according to the pen, also enclosed is a plaque to celebrate Christmastime – tears sting the back of my eyes as I read; ”Believe in the spirit of Christmas”…
Bittersweet offerings

Passing On

As we sit around the table for my Dad’s birthday my Mum says quietly, “See this ruby ring that I had for my 40th wedding anniversary? I want Florrie to have it when I’m gone.” I look at her.
“You are having my engagement ring and I want Florrie to have this one.” The ring moves a little on her knuckle as she touches it. She seems determined that I will agree to do this for her. “Okay.” I say after a moment.
Florrie, who is deep in conversation with my Dad, looks over at me and says, “Are you ok? You look a bit sad.” I realise that this is supposed to be a joyful birthday celebration for my Dad. He is seventy eight today and my Mum was eighty in the summer. Yes I’m sad.
I smile, as expected, but it doesn’t reach my eyes.

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