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Ring the Bell poem book (V3 bigger font) Flipbook PDF
Ring the Bell poem book (V3 bigger font)
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Foreword I began my career in the City of London after leaving school in 1967. In the year 2015 I took on a completely new role in life and trained to become a volunteer at Great Ormond Street Hospital where I spent over 420 days. I relinquished this position in the autumn of 2019 and became a volunteer at a day centre for the elderly. I like writing and am a member of a North London poetry society. One of my other passions is wine and I am often seen engrossed in a book learning about the diversity of grapes and the innovative Lawrence S Marshom winemaking styles from around the world. During my volunteering years I came into close contact with many parents of children who sadly had cancer. On a number of occasions I witnessed firsthand the pain and the suffering these families were having to endure. All these children and parents alike pray for the day when they are called to Ring the Bell. Ringing the bell is a milestone and signifies the end of treatment and the restoration to perfect health. I decided to write this book and together with your kind donations we will make a difference. To the doctors and nurses on the frontline, thank you. Not forgetting all those involved in the Children with Cancer charity, thank you. We hope and pray that for a child ringing the bell for the first time it will be their last. I would also like to say a very special thank you to:
Maggie Barlow for all her invaluable support and sound advice.
Gary Davis for his photographic contribution.
Victoria Henstock front cover photo is the actual End of Treatment Bell on Safari Ward at Great Ormond Street Hospital.
Freddy Fleischer styling and graphics.
Ring the Bell For children with cancer this is no ordinary bell. It’s a bell that marks a huge milestone in an incredibly long journey. It means quite simply they have finished their treatment and can now begin to resume normal life. This bell is not just a bell. It’s a symbol of hope and new beginnings. Many hospitals all over the world that specialise in all forms of cancer treatments have a bell that patients can ring to mark the end their treatment. It is a celebration of life and can be attended with close family members. One of the most famous of these bells is on Safari Ward at the renowned Children’s Hospital in London’s Great Ormond Street. We often ask ourselves why patients ring such a bell and what is the meaning behind it. The bell-ringing tradition began at M D Anderson, the University of Texas Cancer Centre in 1996. A Rear Admiral in the US Navy, Irve Le Moyne, was undergoing radiation treatment for head and neck cancer. Several weeks into his treatment he told his then doctor Kian Ang MD PH D, that he planned to follow the old navy tradition of ringing a bell vigorously “ when the job in hand was done “. He brought a brass bell to his final treatment, rang it several times and left a donation. The bell was then mounted on a wall plaque in the main building of the treatment centre with the following inscription.
Ring this bell Three times well Its toll to clearly say My treatment’s done This course is run And I am on my way. The proceeds of this book will be donated to Children with Cancer. This will help give support to children and their families, fund research and welfare, and help to raise awareness.
Content The Scorpions Tale Running Away Sunrise Russell Square Circle of my mind Love will conquer pain In loving memory of Walter Sitbottom 18th June 1993 The World is Open Dining Out My journey to MacArthur Park Rhythm of the Subway Lullaby Mountain Lockdown Lament One Thousand Dreams My Basket of Dreams The Brunswick Angel Leaving a Million Smiles Halfway There
Page 07 Page 08 Page 09 Page 10 Page 11 Page 12
Page 28 Page 29 Page 31 Page 32 Page 34 Page 35
Page 14 Page 15 Page 17
Page 36 Page 37 Page 38 Page 39
Page 18 Page 19 Page 21 Page 22 Page 23 Page 25 Page 26
Page 40 Page 42 Page 43 Page 45 Page 46 Page 47 Page 48 Page 49
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One Perfect Moment The Poet and the Piano Kings Cross A Day in the Life of a Sandwich Comparing Love Starting Again When Love Arrives Freedom Before You Fly Bloomsbury Day Driftwood One Thousand Years A May Morning Sand Castles The Wind Ripples Autumn 2019 Every Step of the Way
The Scorpion’s Tail The story is simple: no twists or turns, no bends or curves and no diversions to complicate, just a perfectly straight path, a path to nowhere. Why did you have to take me out of my comfort zone? Like a thief in the night I allowed my thoughts and mind to become a victim of an intruder. You arrived in waves utterly and totally overwhelming. Like an earth-filled dam you opened up the floodgates completely unaware of the trail of devastation you were to leave behind. How am I to survive this apocalypse that confronts me? We are not familiar with one another nor do we know each other. You just appeared. Vulnerability was the denominator and when my heart was left open you entered without so much as a warning or invitation. Maybe in the narrowness of time or indeed another life I could reconcile and come to terms with the fact I had been raped by desire. Relentlessly I tried to bolt the door but the intruder always found a small crevice or crack to re-enter. I am finding it at times impossible to extinguish the flames that hurt and burn so fiercely within me. Day turns to night and night turns to day as the intruder reappears relentlessly, constantly, and without realisation of the consequences.The Taurean bull goes on a rampage reminiscent of a scorpion’s tail with a venomous sting. Its armoured metasoma has finally conquered as it always does and I now find myself at the mercy of the intruder once more.
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Running Away Running always running Packing nightmare Why Long queue Hour wait Off with the belt On with the belt Questions More questions Why Crowds of people Nowhere to sit Delayed Under pressure Agitated Why Long haul Short haul Same problems Arrive Baggage late One case Not two Why Day one Saw the mountains History tour What for Funny food
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Not like home India China Africa Vietnam Why you running Why We were there We saw it We took a picture Last day Dreading the journey Such a long way So many hours Delayed again Was it all worth it I think not You need a holiday Enjoy what you have Relax And stop running
Sunrise Russell Square She is fragile and torn Quite old but not worn She lives on the street With no shoes on her feet
At night she will pray To see a new day Before closing her eyes Under moonlit skies
People call her a hag Her clothes all in rags She huffs and she groans Lying there on her own
Sunset Russell Square She has vanished She has gone Something is wrong Something is very wrong She has passed
But somehow she thrives It’s her will to survive Despite her poor health And the absence of wealth She sleeps where she’s able On the pavement by a table Eats food when she can For this was never her plan Seeking shelter from rain Quite often in vain Gets no warmth in the winter And no clothes to fit her Tries to smile in the sun Feeding birds with a crumb She has barely any teeth To chew what she eats
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Circle of my mind Like a snowflake on a mountain that is melting in the sun And God’s prayers that will be answered when all our deeds are done Like a clock whose hands are turning with the passing of the day Like spring flowers keep emerging in the latter part of May Like the ripples on the water slowly rising to the shore And the children’s smiling faces we love and adore Like the kindness that I find in the circle of my mind Like the path that we must follow to that heaven in the sky And a love that’s true and endless and not allowed to die Like the sun that keeps revolving it’s an everlasting theme Like the joy that is tomorrow captured in your dream Like when autumn leaves are falling summer’s gone without a trace We can hear the children’s laughter in every single place Like the kindness that I find in the circle of my mind Thoughts can make your sleep so restless visions jangle in your head Why has time passed by so quickly was it something we both said Walking slow along the shore-line together hand in hand The years have flown without a trace like our footprints in the sand Photos hanging on the stair-well of people that have gone Those remembered names and faces that made me write this song One day it will be over live your life without a care As the summer turns to winter like the colour of our hair Like the ripples on the water slowly rising to the shore And the family we created will live in peace forever more It’s the kindness that I find in the circle of my mind.
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Love will conquer pain You are young and I am older lay your head against my shoulder Saddened eyes so full of woe silk-like! hair your fragile smile Walk with me through fields of gold hands entwined feel the passion The days and hours pass so slowly as the seasons change I cannot mend your broken heart but I can write you a love song Expectation by pen is so much easier than words spoken You are gentle and serene for who knows what might have been Try to refrain in leaving too much to hope for I am your poet Caring and invisible my eyes look out to comfort you As night falls upon you the stars will shine brightly through the gloom Love will care for you and your child for love has no end Love will conquer pain for love is here my special friend
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In loving memory of Walter Sitbottom 18th June 1993
Twenty five years have passed since my untimely demise I am here perched on top of a steep hill overlooking playing fields and a children’s play area. During my time here, I have had to endure some very inclement weather conditions. There was of course the extremely harsh winter of 1998 when the night frosts went straight through my framework and the heavy snowfalls would play havoc with my rickety legs. And of course not forgetting the desert-like summer of 2004 when the green paint on my arms would start to flake and my bodyworks would expand in the heat of the midday sun.
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So much has gone before me. I have witnessed things that most people would only dare to dream and things that are best forgotten and certainly never spoken about. Some of my observations fill my heart with such joy but alas nowadays it is something of a rarity. As the dawn breaks and the morning sun shimmers through the trees I can hear only robins singing in full harmony. The calm and tranquility of a new day is upon me. Yonder in the distance Highfields Lake awaits the fishermen who are always full of such expectation. To my right past the fountain of youth the lush turfs of the immaculate lawns of the bowling green are ready for the senior citizens to enjoy. Left towards the end of the pathway are the endless rows of elms standing so upright and tall: a memorial awaits forever silent in honour of our fallen heroes. This really is such a beautiful place to be. I hope I have given pleasure to many people who have passed by and sat on my frame as they contemplated the world before them. Very special thanks and gratitude must go to my beloved wife Lily for without her donating this park bench in my remembrance I would not have had the pleasure of sharing my experiences with you.
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The World is Open At last the world is open Could not believe my eyes No corpses in the mortuary But sunshine in the skies
I took the path where flowers grow And left the past behind But scars don’t heal that quickly They are embedded in my mind
I stood there for a little while To try and take it in A year of pain and anguish Forgotten where I’ve been
At last the world is open And the streets are free to roam But I play it safe As I always do And mostly stay at home.
A man walked past me in the street I had to stop and ask Has life returned to normal And Covid-19 passed Oh no he said it’s here to stay Now the risks are not so great But still obey all of the rules And you won’t have to isolate I understood and walked away The sun shone on my brow I’m free again I’m free again At least I am for now
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Dining Out In the years gone by my favourite thing Would be going out to dine For different cuisines in restaurants But now it’s a waste of time It may have been French or Italian Sometimes Greek or even a curry But I never feel quite right these days And it’s not about the money It could be posh food or just a cafe The feeling I get is the same I just love my home-made cooking Never reason to complain When they show me to my table Don’t like the place I’m sat And there’s a draught coming down the air-con Well I’ve had enough of that Some of the toilets now are unisex Not the greatest place to be All I want is a urinal So that I can do a pee Now when I phone up for a table A voice says press option one You will only have two hours to eat And then your time is done The cost of the wines they triple To cover the restaurant’s rent One hundred quid if you’re lucky enough
Also twelve and a half percent I just cannot see the value In going out to dine For you might get a funny tummy And be home by half-past nine Let’s all get back to the old days When we used to entertain With good friends around the table For no-one would complain So forget those reservations The parking and the food There is no better place Than to eat at home To put you in the mood.
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My journey to MacArthur Park I wonder Sir if you can help me. I seem to have lost my way. Could you please tell me the way to MacArthur Park? Of course it is about a twenty-minute walk from here. Turn left into Penny Lane then walk about one hundred yards until you come to Baker Street. At the bottom of the street you will see a post office. Take a sharp right and walk along The Yellow Brick Road. When you come to the end by the way it’s a Long Winding Road you will come to Tobacco Road. Then turn right into Telegraph Road and you must keep walking straight. You will then come to a bridge which is known as The Bridge over Troubled Water. Once you have crossed the bridge take a left turn and follow the sign to Strawberry Fields. Enter opposite to the entrance of the YMCA and walk for about six to seven minutes. In the distance you will see a statue of The Fool on the Hill. Approach the gates of MacArthur Park with extreme caution as someone has left their cake out in the rain.
Thank You MacArthur Park is in LA. Cake in the rain is a metaphor for losing a chapter of one’s life. Jimmy Webb
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Rhythm of the Subway We saw each other At the same time Our eyes met On the subway Saturday in May In your faded jeans You approached me Asking the time Could not say no Or even look away Suddenly I knew this was right Very right You were right So perfect Hair like silk Perfect I froze Was I dreaming? I reached out Your hand in mine Felt nice Exchanged stories
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You were mine If only for that night We walked We talked To the rhythm Of the stars Out of the subway Everything was right On that night
Lullaby Mountain The clouds rolled in I started to dream Of you again That smile That glow We had such hope But it’s another day Searching for a mountain To climb Every rock Every boulder So large Climbing to the top I pause Listening to the wind That invisible force Whispering Stay awhile I love you More than eternity Your silent ways Hide your thoughts and smile I have dreams But no regrets Not thinking of what was Only what is Listening to the wind Summer beckons On Lullaby mountain
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Lockdown Lament She’s confined to her high rise On a street that’s dull and grey No garden for recreation For her children to run and play Imprisoned on the eighth floor No husband and no hope Graffiti on the stairwell The smell of joints and smoke Her silk-like hair and eyes so blue I used to see her smile But life in the lockdown Has changed all that She’s been sentenced for a while Her mental state so fragile When will her torment end? I’m powerless to help this lady My very special friend Not everyone in lockdown Is feeling depressed and pain For the lady in her high-rise Life will never be the same They say in time The scars will heal For the privileged
They just might be right But for the lady In her high-rise I certainly have my doubt Don’t cry My love Be strong My love It won’t be long My love And your life Will be alright
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One Thousand Dreams I have dreamt a thousand dreams Countless colours all brilliant and bright Still blue waters on the golden sand Mountains rising above the land Endless flowers of different kinds Gentle winds in the summer sun I have dreamt a thousand dreams And you are there in every one I see a love so pure and clear Two pulses beating while you are here Touched by fortune kissed with grace Two hearts entwined in this open space Looking into your piercing eyes The feeling I’m getting is no surprise A thousand dreams come into view The days and nights I spend with you Come kiss my lips I will hold you near Keep you safe from harm and fear There is nothing for me to say or do Just to make my thousand dreams come true
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My Basket of Dreams I will place them in a basket Lined with silk and lace Only keep the good ones And disregard the rest I awake out of my slumber To place them in a heap Ten angels ride on horseback When I lie fast asleep The warmth of the fire It melts the glistening snow Two lovers kiss upon a beach When the tide is low Peace cast a glow around the world And folk burst into song And man has learned What he should have known The meaning of right from wrong Now fruits of life are plentiful No hunger or disease And the Robins sing As Robins do From rooftops and from trees
Seasons change from year to year War is over no more fear Hate’s been banished from our land All God’s children Walk hand in hand These dreams are in my basket Taking pride of place I only keep the good ones Lined with silk and lace
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The Brunswick Angel I sat alone in Brunswick Square focusing on the abundance of white and yellow daises that form a carpet-like effect on the lush green lawns. Summer has arrived and my vision of hope and dreams lay before me for the daisy chains tell their own story. Through a small break in the white clouds above I saw an angel beckoning. It was one of those magical moments in time, like hearing your new-born cry or that first kiss. It cannot be repeated and probably never will. Sitting below a venerable tree I somehow feel I must show it the utmost respect for it has without question earned it. Why am I feeling so emotional? This space has that effect on me, transporting my inner soul into another world, a world of peace and tranquility. The mid-day sun beams down on a large leaf upon the tree and the skeletons of veins with a mass of thin membrane between them protract upward diagonal branches that reach towards the heavens above. In times of such change standing still could be or might be assumed as dangerous but I did stand still when I saw that angel a moment ago. She spoke of peace and love and all that is good, all that is righteous, and all that is fair the day I kissed an angel in Brunswick Square.
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Leaving a Million Smiles It is hard to say goodbye And leave a part of me behind So many happy memories So many sad encounters So many fragile children Underneath my smile I hold back the tears Put them in a box A box of half-broken dreams A million words Trapped inside me A million tears A million smiles Disappearing without a trace At times the road was never clear Obstacles in my way But I have no choice In leaving everything behind Only the memories will remain I must now follow my heart And take with me all I know All that I have leaned All of those memories A million tears A million smiles A million loves
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Halfway There I see you Never far behind From all things That moved us Talking honestly together Trying to overcome Forgiving and forgetting Just words so many words But can’t you see What might have been Raise a glass To make things right A photo or two Or maybe three Randomly taken And what is fair We do not know Passion and love Burn so slow Halfway there In the afterglow On hushaby mountain
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One Perfect Moment There is one moment One moment in time Between a glance and a kiss When the world actually stops turning For only a few seconds The only thing between us Is the feeling of anticipation Of your lips upon mine A moment So intense So remarkable So unforgettable It hangs on a thread Above the star-filled sky It pulls us closer With a magnetic force That moment So unimaginable And yet so surreal Perfect in every way And when that moment comes to its conclusion
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As it eventually will We will realise That for you and me It was only the beginning Of one perfect moment
The Poet and the Piano I am your Poet and you are my Piano. Together you and I are artistes. Cast aside the last year of your life when those beautiful eyes were so full of sorrow and relinquish that melancholy you. Let the real pianist in you arise from the sadness that once surrounded you and let the joy of yesterday return. Express yourself on the keys of your piano and let those small delicate fingers play once more. For you my darling are a woman, a woman so full of love and life who will now conquer all that lies before. Reflection shall be your ultimate healer. Go and reflect. Play a symphony, a masterpiece that you are so capable of, and let those ivory keys sing only of happiness. Through your music you will arise once more. My pen can write a million words and your piano can play a thousand songs for I am just your Poet and you are my Piano. Together we are one, the Poet and the Piano. Two gifted artistes. Two special people. Two of a kind
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Kings Cross Arriving at Kings Cross at daybreak as I do three days a week It’s a damp September morning so still so silent The ticket hall awaits the onslaught of commuters jockeying for position I’m on my way to a place, a very special place where miracles really do happen He awakes before the sun rises The cold pavements and dark alleyways are his only home He rests his head upon a pillow of daily papers Cardboard boxes surround his body reading Fed Ex this way up His home is strategically placed near to the Seven Eleven and the Costa Coffee On a good day he will be able to buy several cans of anything So that by the time night falls He can forget himself once more Forget everything and everybody he once knew There are eight thousand out there or so I’ve been told And when winter arrives there are no blankets to fold He wakes up before the sun rises Until maybe one day he will not
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A Day in the Life of a Sandwich Where have all my happy days gone? The days when my master handled me with care and coated me with all that was pure, sometimes salty butter and other times not but it really was of no consequence to me. What was of prime importance was the time and trouble he took in making me and filling my middle with an abundance of fresh flavours and ingredients. Some days I would be white and other days brown or even sometimes when the weather was inclement he would toast me and serve me warm. It all depended on the customer’s request. Apart from me there were other varieties of things he would fill: rolls spring to mind. These rolls where either soft or crusty and, in some cases, had seeds on top. These seemed to be extremely popular with the younger generation. My fillings would vary. I so looked forward to that mashed egg and cress and the Cheddar cheese so mild with just a hint of sweetness. The finest cold roast beef with just a teaspoon of horse radish would delight me. I was never a show-off but on the odd occasion as a treat smoked salmon with a pinch of lemon was to adorn my carefully cut slices. This, I remember made me feel so important. It always made me feel special. Therefore when it was time to leave the premises he would wrap me up with the utmost care in grease-proof paper and place me immaculately with precision in a paper bag. My journeys were often short I would be transported to a nearby office or on a bright summer’s day eaten in the park on a bench by the stream. I was always treated with respect and enjoyed immensely by all the men and women that I gave pleasure to. Life was so good way back then just being a plain humble sandwich.
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And what of now? Well, my friends, things are so different for me. I am still those two slices of bread carefully cut but now they lay me out on a metal conveyer belt in a factory the size of a football pitch somewhere in the middle of nowhere. The soft delicate hands that used to hold and dress me are now just a distant memory. Instead heavy steel machines with no heart or soul or pride or passion administer their labour upon me. Gone too is the wonderful mashed egg also the pink rare roast beef and not forgetting the beautiful English Cheddar with that touch of Branston in the middle. Please can anybody tell me why? As I lie here, I am most apprehensive. I really do not want houmous and falafel put upon me or the crayfish and rocket which I find most unpleasant and bitter. The wheels turn around and around, the noise is deafening and, wait for it, a big dollop of smelly brie with tomato and basil is now my next port of call. Now I am stuffed with all things that are completely alien to me it makes me sad and unhappy. They are going to pre-pack me in a piece of small cardboard with fancy writings and descriptions. On it will read a host of numbers and letters which nobody will understand unless of course they have a Master’s degree in physics. I am finally transported away from the factory by lorries and trains and sometimes planes only to find myself being neatly placed on a supermarket shelf or in an upmarket shop with a very strange name. When someone buys me, as they will they will open me where it reads “open here” on top of the left-hand corner and peel. I know it will always be a struggle for them because I really do not want to come out and be devoured by a person who has no respect for me. How I wish I could turn back the years and have the simple fillings that are no longer fashionable today. When the Andrex has disappeared and the mouthwash bottle is empty and Rennies no longer do what they are meant to do I hope you will all realise that there is still a place for The Humble Sandwich.
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Comparing Love Love is like a collection of trees The Oak the Willow and Elm They send their roots down deep Into the solid fertile ground In winter when the northerly winds arrive And their branches adversely blow They shake and bend with such force But never ever do they break or fall Even in times of extreme summer drought Their roots grow deeper and deeper So whatever seasons fall upon them The trees stand upright and tall Like love they will not be beaten Through good times and bad Love will always withstand The true test of time Love never fails or dies For love is eternal Just like the Oak the Willow and the Elm
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Starting Again Can we both start again? Be like strangers when we first met As we were in the very beginning When our eyes first met Let me introduce myself Maybe we could talk a while And even laugh again together Turn back those pages of our fairy tale We could sip the fruits of wine As we did time and again Listen to each other’s stories Create new and fresh memories Give each other a new purpose A reason to be happy once more Embrace the love that went before And start again
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When Love Arrives Can love be forgiving? For no one is everything Not you Not me Not even him One day all will be equal The rich The poor The needy And when that day arrives As it eventually will Love will conquer all All that has gone before It will be our ruler No need for luck or indeed magic Just hold it tight With all your might And do what is right When that day comes Hold out your arms Embrace the splendour For when love arrives Peace will be eternal
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Freedom Smile Come Greet the day With a candle Flickering Dance forward Step by step Greet the week Dream of peace For all mankind Greet the day With love A world Full of people Striving To be free Once more
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Before You I stand before you Simply wondering Is it my turn Maybe I ask a question Why I stand before you Hoping Trying To solve the puzzle What is love? Something The world needs More than ever What is love? Moments Special moments That last for ever I stand before you Free Together we will survive And survive we will To love always And for ever
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Fly It’s another day Without you Just another moment You are far away We left it to fate But that was far too late That bird It knows where to go It knows when to go High above In the heavens so blue Flying just for you When love has gone Walk away Don’t run You are not alone You will arrive It was meant That bird is flying It’s another day Another moment For you
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Bloomsbury Day I will walk alone by Coram Fields Looking at the children rejoicing But alas I can only stand and watch As I do not have a child’s hand to hold Making my way to Saffron Hill Where years ago the sun would never ever shine The cesspools and slums are somehow forgotten But will always remain at the forefront I will sit alone in Queen’s Square And talk to whoever might be there Music from the past fills my ears The lamb lies down Carpet crawlers heed their callers Got to get in to get out But alas it’s not how I remember it Arriving now to Cosmo Place Where on cobbled stone pavements The Bloomsbury lady sits Sipping her black coffee on sixty a day We greet each other with a smile As we have both done countless times before On the corner of Lamb’s Conduit and Guilford Street Sits a man dressed in rags Ralph McTell must have written his famous song The Streets of London for
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He’s kicking up the papers With his worn-out shoes Approaching Great Ormond Street It’s a blue day, it’s a new day, it’s my day, it’s Friday Another Bloomsbury day I stop and wave to Peter and Tinkerbell They also wave back Awaiting the children For yet another day of miracles This is me This is Bloomsbury This is London This place I love
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Driftwood It is on a voyage Steered by the stars Blown by the wind Through clouds and rain Swept away to the coastline Tossed and torn As it falls to rest Like people Like you and me We are all like driftwood We are all like driftwood Of some kind On the sands of our lives Always waiting For that one moment Where the storm and the wind Will take us We do not know Like people Like you and me We are all like driftwood
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One Thousand Years How can I thank you angel It would take a thousand years You touched me when I needed you On the verge of tears Your smile it took me higher As night turned into day The thought of you beside me Not much I could say You did not have to be there You could have walked on by A man without much purpose Trying not to cry You taught me what true love was And brushed away my tears I don’t know how to thank you It would take a thousand years
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A May Morning The sun wedged itself between the clouds Smiling brightly in the blue yonder It made the grass greener And the heavens brighter It set the clouds alive With a symphony on that May morning I closed my eyes Listening to the sounds Of birds chirping Amongst the trees They might have been smiling And the day was made more beautiful By the sound of your laughter Your smile grew larger and larger Your eyes brighter and brighter Not even the wind Or the rain clouds forming Could have dampened that smile On that May morning
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Sand Castles Watch me dance Watch me romance Now is our chance The water is ankle high And blue like the sky Just see me Look at me Love me In the beautiful water I am here You are near Together we dance By the water’s edge Sand Castles In the sky Beautiful sun Beautiful day Beautiful you Don’t worry No harm will come I am here always Beautiful sun Beautiful day Beautiful you
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The Wind The wind brought me to you You stood apart In that crowded room So full of hope You caught my eye And now I know why The wind had a plan Jet black hair shimmering Your smile touched me As the room thinned out And the crowds disappeared I asked if you had time For your smile said it all You need not have replied The wind brought me to you It is always there Waiting in the wings
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Ripples We never did get to run along the water’s edge Did we Never did we really hold hands Holding each other was forbidden Inviting lips so abandoned From a distance it was hard to tell Ripples never come back We were not perfect Far from it Different people With different lives The past a memory The present unknown We hung on to hope For as long as we could Trying to compensate What wasn’t there Just a figment In our mind Ripples never come back From the water’s edge
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Autumn 2019 I sat silently abandoned with my thoughts upon a bench where many have sat before. The London plane holds out its arms beckoning and awaiting the Brunswick Angel. Daisy chains dance amongst the clover on the sun-bleached lawn. White clouds scatter in anticipation of your arrival. Just like the sleight of hand of a magic trick you came and went but it was so good to see you. One day you’ll return I have no doubt. Until that day arrives let the bench remain empty. Let the clover spread until the daisies are no more. Let the withered leaves fall upon the sun-baked earth. Until the Brunswick Angel returns once more on a bright Autumn day in Bloomsbury.
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Every Step of the Way I want you with me When the earth starts to shake I want you with me From night to daybreak I hope you’ll forgive me For all my mistakes I want you with me Every step of the way As day turns to night And soil turns to dust Our memories won’t fade Like steel turns to rust Looking back on those lessons We learned every day United together Every step of the way The years pass so quickly We should not be afraid Just cherish those moments And the roles we both played We must look to the future Embrace every day My love is eternal Every step of the way
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Ring the Bell by Lawrence S Marshom