A new life begins with the smallest of seeds,

Each new beginning not knowing its needs,

Like the acorn that falls from the mighty oak tree,

Or the rosebud that opens and flowers with glee,

From the dew of the morning as the earth wakens new,

To the darkness that falls as the stars take their cue.


An innocent beginning will never know shame,

Mistakes not yet written will never know blame,

Like a babe that is born as it takes its first breath,

Or a mother that cradles new life to her flesh,

From the first gasp of air that fills a small chest,

To the soft sleep of slumber that honours the blest.


Just an unpainted canvas not burdened by form,

Landscapes not captured until age can transform.

Like rain drops that fall and ripple still water,

Or a storm cloud that causes a blue sky to falter,

From the first touch of summer that hails from afar,

To the last bite of winter as it sings au revoir.


All life begins with the smallest of things.

We Will Always Have Paris

After enough turkey and ham to start a small holding and enough chocolate to cover a small country it’s thankfully back to reality with this weeks Friday Fictioneers. A 100 word photo prompt hosted by the fabulous Rochelle Wisoff-Fields, this weeks photo provided by the equally creative Douglas Macilroy. Follow the link and have a go….


Penny pulled up the collar of her coat against the chill and let herself be swallowed back into the crowd. No more noticeable than the person in-front, behind or on either side.

While up above, Jack still waited on the viewing platform. Arcs of white light cut through a starless black sky and his heart died a little more with every minute that passed. His head knew she wasn’t coming long before his heart did.

He would never know she was there or never know how close she came to meeting him. But she would know and for now that was enough.

Merry Christmas

I would just like to wish everyone a very Merry Christmas and a wonderful New Year. This weekend I hit 500 followers and am absolutely blown away with all the wonderful comments and feedback I’ve been given over the last 6 months. I’m not a clever writer and just write what’s in my head but I thank you all from the bottom of my heart for reading and following.

chris 3

When Black Was White.

When black was white,

And love was blue,

When love was hate,

And lies were true,


When night was day,

And stars were gone,

When wake was sleep,

And dreams were none.


When songs were read,

And words were sung,

When need was want,

And weak were strong.


When war was peace.

And foe was friend,

When fighting ceased,

And wrongs were cleansed.


When love was ours,

And fear withdrew,

The world still turned,

But it turned anew.



I watch you from the edges,

From a place that I’m not seen,

I leave a trace behind me,

A scent of where I’ve been,

I am the sense of something,

A glimpse or fleeting movement,

A taste of something missing,

Or a long forgotten moment.

I am the blood that rises,

In the heat within your chest,

The heartbeat that increases,

And the fear that you accept.

I’m close enough to touch you,

To feel your skin on mine,

Close enough to whisper,

If you’d only cross that line.

I’m here for you, I’m waiting,

In the shadows of your mind,

With dancing echoes calling,

For our paths to re-align.

I’ll watch you from the edges,

For a lifetime I’ll be there,

Waiting for you always,

Not knowing when or where.



Sometimes are good times,

And sometimes are bad,

Sometimes, I long for,

The sometimes we had.


Sometimes, are lost times,

And sometimes, are found,

Sometimes, I yearn for,

The times not around.


Sometimes, are quiet times,

And sometimes, are still,

Sometimes, I look for,

Past memories to fill.


Sometimes, are new times,

And sometimes, are old,

Sometimes, I hope for,

Some more time to hold.


Sometimes, are gone times,

And sometimes I forget,

And sometimes I struggle,

With the times I regret.

The Dream-Catcher

My favourite day of the week. Time for Friday Fictioneers. The 100 word photo prompt hosted by the fabulous Rochelle Wisoff-Fields. I can’t recommend it enough, take a look over, give it a go, you’ll soon be addicted.


Photo : Jean L Hays

For most, dreams are fleeting. Just echoes that dance between waking hours and sleeping thoughts. Then they fade and vanish into nothing. But for Gran it was different. Gran was the 2nd daughter of a 2nd daughter and was able to choose which dreams to re-visit. Gran was a ‘Dream-catcher’.

As a child I was captivated by the stories she told, the choices she made. Tales of how she soared with the eagles and hunted wild stag, how she sailed to the Indies and swam with the dolphins. But now she’s gone and it’s my time to choose. I pray I choose wisely.

Dating Santa

Please be aware this has a slight adult theme and for that I may no longer be on the nice list,  I apologise.


It has been a very long time,

But I still can’t quite forget,

The night we had together,

That night that we first met,

I’d hung my stockings neatly,

Against the fire to dry,

You’d eyed them so discreetly,

Though I’m sure I heard you sigh,

I saw you in that outfit,

So big and red and round,

And I knew I’d pay a forfeit,

If I made the slightest sound,

You wove a trail of magic,

That had me in your spell,

And I saw the stretch of fabric,

As I watched your big bag swell,

I’m not the type of woman,

Who throws herself at men,

But I felt my boundaries loosen,

When I saw your fountain pen.

You asked me was I naughty,

And I said “Oh no, I’m nice”

You looked at me quite haughty,

And said you’d check it twice.

You gave me such a present,

Against the prickly green,

That the needles fell in torment,

And the fairy’s not been seen.

So this year I’ll be waiting,

For the big man in the suit,

For when you’re dating Santa,

The naughty list is mute.

You’ll Know Why


I would walk for a hundred mile,

Just to hear your voice, to see your smile,

I’d scale a mountain way up high,

Just to see you soar, to watch you fly.


I’d swim the length of an ocean wide,

To watch you float on a moonlit tide,

I’d catch the stars that light the sky,

And gather diamonds passing by.


I’d steer the moon that claims the night,

To swathe you in its resplendent light,

I’d weave a path through constellations,

Trailing dreams and declarations.


I’d keep the sun from slumbers wake,

To catch your dreams before they break,

And I’d hold them in my palms up high,

So you’d know love and you’d know why.



I had a recommendation from the very talented to check out  ‘Romantic Monday’.  Such a great way to spend a Monday, so I wrote this piece with that in mind.





Who will you call,

When love starts to fade,

Who’ll hold your hand,

And try to persuade,

Who’ll be the one,

That leads you away,

And who’ll be the one,

Who prays that you stay,

Who will you tell,

Of the dreams that you hold,

And who’ll be the one,

To see them unfold,

Who will tell stories,

Of where you have been,

And who’ll paint the pictures,

Of all that you’ve seen.

Who will be burned,

By the heat of your touch,

And who’ll be the one,

That’s left to begrudge,

Who will you wake with,

On each new tomorrow,

And who’ll be the one,

Who rises with sorrow.

Who’ll be the one,

Who comes after me,

I hope she is all,

That I couldn’t be.