WENDY CRICKARD
THE DANDELION
By the dusty roadside,
On the wasteland mound,
Sturdy legs and ragged coat,
Your tousled head is found.
Summer's golden coinage
Scattered in the grass;
Beaming ever brightly
Tho' frailer blossoms pass.
Undervalued treasure,
Childhood's favoured flower;
Down the summer evenings,
Counting out each hour.
Today there is making of beds.
Yesterday there was making of beds
And tomorrow there will be making of beds.
In Spring I shall walk barefoot on cool grass,
Press my face to the earth.
I shall smell the sweet singing scent of hyacinth
And hear the bluebells chime.
He will come to me out of the wild green woodland
Trailing time’s mossy cloak.
I shall know the sudden urgency of jonquil
And the anemone.
Then there will be making of beds.
DIMINISHING RETURNS
Love locked we lie and lying, Lie.
Each sweet deciet, each soft sigh
Symptom of such selfish bliss.
And I to you and you to me,
Turning, returning, kiss for kiss;
Practise ever deception,
Which is
This
FAMILY TIES
My sister's got a sister
Who's nowt to do with me,
'Cos my Dad went and got himself another family.
There's Dad and Mum and me and John,
'N'Dad and Ellen and little Tom,
Then there's my sister Caroline,
She's Dad's kid so she must be mine.
But Ellen says that she's got four;
I can't cope with anymore.
I know there's Pete and Lindy Lou
And their Dad just met up with Sue
Who says,
She prefers to have a career.
Me too!