Yesterday represents some bad times past.
Relationships I thought would last.
Times I’m told were full of fun,
But hardship outnumbered that, ten to one.

Today represents us, that’s me and you,fe,
You made everything right when it was askew.
You brought meaning to feeling SA secure,
We are bound by a love enduring and mature.

Yesterday seems full of ills and woes,
Of grief, betrayal, all-time lows.
Of mental cruelty, disrespect,
Of endless attacks on soul and intellect.

Today is joyful, full of hope.
Of sun-filled days that envelope.
Surrounded by those that we adore
And promise of better things in store!

I’ve a passion for percussion,
I love a kettle drum,
I like a snare or high hat,
Something to make my eardrums thrum!
But there is just one instrument,
That stands apart, alone,
And that’s the mellow sound, the tone that comes,
From a wondrous xylophone!

I stopped to marvel at spots of dew,
Clinging to a dragonfly’s wings.
It looked like a delicate lace tattoo,
An intricate structure that kind of sings.
How great is nature at moments like these?
That we can marvel at a simple thing?
No time for introspection, analyses,
As we stop to look at dew on a dragonfly’s wing.

Do you want a biscuit?
Would you like a cake?
Can I tempt you with a scone and jam?
Something else I’ve baked?
Would you like a pudding?
Perhaps a Creme brûlée!
Or can I push a crumble on you?
Or maybe a soufflé?
I’m a temptress in the kitchen!
Lots of effort I’ll exert,
To be a champion pastry chef,
And make a great dessert!

Who are you behind the veil?
I see a woman, ergo frail?

I see a life that’s been hard fought,
I see small successes dearly bought.
I feel the hardship, feel the pain,
That’s haunting, like a sad refrain.
I see tenacity, determination,
A lust for life, for education.
I see a fierce intelligence,
Humility and reticence.
I see a desperate sense of fortitude,
I see friendship forged in solitude.
I see a woman who has compassion,
With love to give, that does not ration.
I see hardship, I see tears,
I see innovators, pioneers.
I see hope of better things,
I see joy, and all that brings.
I see a woman of tungsten steel,
Whose strength’s immense and it is real.
I see a beauty unsurpassed,
I see a legacy that’s sure to last.
I see a woman of courage, of enterprise,
All this I see, just from these eyes.

My mother had a parasol,
Antique and made from lace,
It was of little use at all,
It only just shaded her face,
Oh, give me an umbrella,
Brash, and colourful and loud,
I’m no Cinderella,
I just want shelter from that rain cloud!

What’s this current obsession people have with tattoos?
Why is it something they actually choose?
There is a great beauty to unadorned human skin,
The silky soft patches under armpit and chin.
Why choose to cover it in some foreign text,
Which only looks good when your muscles are flexed?
Not to mention the fact it’s not a language you speak,
So you might just be covered in some barbaric batik!
And what’s with the bluebird, flying there on your shoulder?
It’ll be a bald eagle or vulture when you get older…
Call me old-fashioned and way out of date,
But a tattoo? No fear! I’m not tempting fate!

Revenge is a dish that’s best served cold,
An adage worth its weight in gold.
You wait until your hurt and pain has gone,
To avenge yourself on the one that’s done you wrong.
You find an inventive and clever solution,
That brings satisfaction and complete resolution!
Keep your friends close, but your enemies closer still,
So you can exact true justice, if you will.
So those who’ve wronged me, you’d better take care,
I’ve found a way to get even, so boy, beware!

It is said that the dying, whilst alive,
Have regrets that number five.
That their happiness should have been a reservoir, 
That they’d stayed in touch with friends, both near and far.
That they’d truly lived their lives as dealt,
That they could express freely what they felt.
And, the one they couldn’t disregard,
That they hadn’t worked so very hard.
John Betjeman , not one to be brainwashed,
Pronounced this notion utter tosh,
He said he had just one regret,
And that was not having far more sex.
So should we conclude this rather sad,
That he found his sex life rather bad,
Or conclude he was something of a “lad”,
And so successful, and for him, be glad?

A Kerria Japonica is a beautiful bush,

It paints your garden yellow at a push,

It brings you pleasure, brings you joy,

It brings you nature for you to enjoy.

Plant one at home, heck plant two or three,

It’ll make you smile and feel oh, so happy!