Sun Haze

The sun rises in my eyes it’s always true and never lies, just hangs there in the sky. Blinding light, power to make you sneeze, struggle for breath and start to wheeze. It heats you up lifts your mood ultra violet It extrudes, exploding heat rays give way to atmospheric haze. Oh how I love these long hot days, barbecues and children play, to hot for indoors to stay.

Not mid summer it’s only May making the most of each sunny day. Evenings turn to chill, sitting out late is a lovely thrill, cooling down with long cold drinks, sun sets in orange red skies as glasses clink. Water seams a cold relief but cooling from the sun is only brief.

Off to bed to rest my weary head to hot to sleep, lay on the bed in a sweaty heap, until the early morning when through the curtains the sun once again does creep, after its short night sleep. Down stairs I must go to sit in the garden all alone hearing the owl and the chorus of birds, bleating of sheep in fields in herds. But all is peaceful and no one stirs.

The power of the sun is immense and warm it’s not gone much past dawn as the new day is born. Then comes the storm, thunder and lightning, crashing rain, washing the air on its route to the drain. In the aftermath of the storm comes a cool fresh air cleansing the day making it easier for the heat to bare. Oh how I love those long hot days, but soon will come winter and it will all be a haze.

Little Boy Soldier

Little boy soldier what have they told ya? Kalashnikov on your shoulder, ten or eleven not much older. Did they tell you that you might die and stop you from having a cry and did they tell you the truth about why? It won’t hurt you won’t die and if you do you will be a martyr up in the sky, carrying a gun makes you bolder even though you might not get older.

Why must you die living a lie, no chance to give peace a try. No emotion, no regret, just hardened beliefs kept. Little boy soldier, this gun is no toy it will only kill and destroy men or little boys, it doesn’t care which at the flick of a switch. Running with the boys playing big boys games little boy soldiers a country’s shame

Little boy soldier huge weight on your shoulders, does your mum approve, what have they told her? Where will you go when they come for you? Can you kill them before they get you? Little boy soldier lay down your guns until you are older and can take the burden on your shoulders. Go home to mum while she can still hold ya. Tell her you don’t want to be a little boy soldier marching around with a gun on your shoulder. Never again do you want to see men die, without a tear coming to your eye. Little boy soldier please please cry and ask this cruel world why?



Smooth as silk, sugar and milk. Cold from the fridge melt in the heat, feels good to eat. Melt on the fingers, in the throat it lingers. Addictive a fix a heady mix, little parcels, slabs or sticks. Milk, white and dark it all creates a spark. Cooking or spreading or grating chocolate heaven.

It’s the quick snack or even a six-pack. The box that nan sent as the present, full of coloured centres packed in little trays, it only lasts a couple of days. Chocolate changes your mood a real comfort food, to refuse would be rude. Belgium Swiss and American to, which one are you? Nuts and caramel Turkish delight, soft centre or hard one is just right, heavy and light.

Eat in the day or the middle of the night any time it’s just right, in it’s wrapper bold and bright. Chocolate cake and brownies too maybe even a chocolate fondue. Take it in a picnic on a visit to the zoo, send to your beau to say I love you, special occasions or just cos you’re bored, chocoholic many bars you hoard. If you have a spat or even loose the cat, getting yourself in a right state chocolate is your soul mate.