Laura Sanders

January , she comes sneaking into my tired life,
exhaling her sharp, crisp breath of white,
like a frigid, uncaring, unloving wife,
she too, can bite like a scorpion's bite.

Can affect you with her frost, freeze flesh, make all ill,
can transform from mild air to a bitter cold,
she weaves and dances  in and out, her wintry quick- step chill,
She is one who never grows tired or old.

January the icy lover, with her sober blast,
- pull your cloak of death away from my door!
How I long for her  to quickly glide past,
and for sister February to come knocking once more.

And January takes  leave of her tight gripped hold,
as February melts her down with disdain,
No longer is she strong, domineering, bold,
February is here to stay with her warm sun and falling rain.....

They sacrificed their lives, entered the gates of hell,
Onward they stumbled, while all around them fell,
War weary, ragged, faces dirt encrusted, black.
Impatient for the whistle, ready for attack.

In their hearts burned everlasting hope,
Carrying love letters and handwritten notes,
Tiny mementos and gifts tucked into pockets,
As shells blasted like exploding rockets!

They died as all good soldiers die,
Hoping for a better world for you and I,
Wanting to set the world free,
But many would shudder if they could see

The selfish world we live in today.
Would they be pleased with its uncaring ways?
Because "for our today, they gave their tomorrow,"
So let us be grateful, not wallow in sorrow.

Let us make their sacrifice worthwhile,
And help each other with willingness and a smile,
For at our darkest hour, our country they did save,
With their lives, which they so bravely gave....

A Carers work is never done
looking after Dad, looking after mum,
trying to be one step ahead,
making sure all are "watered" , all are fed.

Plaiting twists of silver hair,
showing them you really do care,
hoovering, polishing, the house clean,
making sure that table tops gleam.

Cooking is a necessary chore,
making sure you have swept the floor,
switching things off, and going behind,
Life is tedious, can be a bind.

Shopping is getting in things they need,
something they like, at their next feed,
and wrinkled hands need oodles of handcream
and vitamin pills given, before they dream.

But there's  grateful smiles when things go smooth,
when you help and are not rude,
keeping calm, and doing your best,
get things done, then its time for rest.

then it is off to make another cup of tea,
then evening  time arrives, for them and me.
Watching tele, before time for bed,
as rest time is needed for tired, old heads!

Oh, for this pleasant green land, where the birds whistle all day long,
where the golden drop flowers shimmer in fields, in throngs,
where the buzz and hum of a tractor, akin to the countryside belongs,
where the screech of a Buzzard, fills the cloud- puffed skies all along,

Where the squawk of a pheasant, can shatter the stillness of no sound,
where tall  field grasses sway over tussock- laden ground,
where Oak trees , tall giants, stand swaying  all around,
and the russet brown gleam of a Deer flashes by ,as it bounds....

All these images convey the beauty of the countryside.
I have yet to find more riches, as I travel far and wide,
and who can deny it's presence, for it does not want to hide,
come find it with me and like Princes stalking treasure, we will ride......

Childhood memories sometimes seem like a fog,
then if you think hard enough, they clear away like smog.
Memories come back, such as walking to school, down countryside lanes,
myself and my siblings, playing sack races and other games.

Egg and spoon races, trips to the golden seaside,
visits to Longleat, where we had a camel ride.
On Victoria, we all perched and did sit,
my brother wasn't happy, he nearly threw a fit!

Camping on Dartmoor, primus stove burning bright,
listening to mum's ghost stories, she gave us all the frights!
Visiting the Bath and West show, for us held a big deal,
We looked at the attractions and got put on the big Ferris wheel.

Walks upon the ridgeway, and Dorset walks were great times,
We walked mile on mile, found mushrooms, chatted, feeling fine.
Sports days, disco's larking about in the pool.
such happy days we were nobody's fool!

Those days will never come back, they're so unique in every way,
childhood memories are precious, they never fade away,
seeing certain things can trigger, thoughts of bygone days,
Never forgotten, and as we age, they return to us to stay.....