vanndra

Today the sun rose slowly, Over the steamy sea. There were sounds of water lapping, As the tide crept close to me. Wet sand was intermittent as the water lapped the shore, The seagulls raced the water in Between the shells galore. The humidity is creeping up, The breeze is turning warm, The yachts and cats are still - In the waters, blue and calm. The day ahead is starting, the heat will creep up now, But enjoy the day beginning The night can take a bow! © vanndra 2021

The sound of lightly falling rain upon the roof, The sight of dripping drops on leaves and petals, The distant lazy strumming of guitar, no voice, The intermittent calling of a crow - Perhaps in protest to the unexpected rain. Soothing therapeutic sounds, Normality in a time of sadness, The spiritual call of nature that soothes the inner soul. ©  vanndra 2020

Sometimes it's hard, the days are dark, the mind is blurred, but just keep on. No point looking back - be strong.

Can we be alone when we are not? I think so. We are there, they are there, but we are alone. Can others know the emptiness of loss of love and friendship? When that company is there, but not? Others too are there but not. They have their lives, their families... Do they care, I think so, But perhaps not enough to know the loneliness that is now here, How could they? The despair that one can feel when a loved one is there but not. Those of us who know understand that, We are alone but not.

There is a man I know, who used to be a boy, He never was a child, but he used to be a boy. The child was never there, the innocence and love, The feeling of security and a home with family love. He says there’s something missing that he just cannot seem to find, Maybe it’s the part of him that should have been a child. Can he ever feel that part of him, now that he’s a man – When it never really happened, well I guess he never can. Maybe he seeks the child in him in another little one, The little one he knows and loves, the one he calls his son. Will this be the answer to his endless search? For something that is missing, and something that still hurts. Maybe he’ll get the answer if he learns to love himself, When he learns to love the boy - the missing child is not his fault. Only then can he begin to learn, that the child is really there, It’s that part of him that searches for someone who will care; It’s that part of him that searches for a family and a home, The side of him that

Have you seen my Milky? No, I haven’t, why? ‘ Cos I had it with my Golden Wart, Right next to my Cats Eye. Well, I’ve only seen your Smokey, That you had with your Blue Fin. But I had it by my pouch, and I never put it in! You got my Rugged Country, My Tombola you won too, Maybe you took it by mistake, I don’t know what to do! I’ve got my Cloud to deal with, And all different coloured Warts, But I really want my Milky back, Then I’ll have all the different sorts. ©  vanndra

True a friend as ever, Twinkling brown eyes, love only for you, Faithfulness a whole life through.

He sits on his chair in the corner, And watches the football alone, He used to go to the matches, But now he prefers to stay home. He lost the strength and the youth, To face the cold North Wind, and to stand with the crowd And support them out loud, It's got a bit much for him. The room is full of chatter, And tinkling cups of tea, And he lights his cig, And watches the match With his cup of tea on his knee. And he tries to hear the comments, To listen to what is said, And he tries to stop the chatter By saying it's time for bed. But despite the presence of others There by his side in the room, He sits in his chair in the corner And watches the match on his own. vanndra

Too distant for a bird to fly, at the other side of the earth she lies, Shadowed by economic strife and smog, the land I love. They say she's on a downward slide, The chimney tops damped by rain, Shadowed by ever grey skies - in winter time, in winter time. But patience sees the rest, The warm fresh summer days of brilliant green, blue, yellow, The summer rain that cleans the dusty streets, The faces that I know and love, the feeling of belonging. ©  vanndra