Just because something doesn't exist, it doesn't mean you shouldn't believe in it:

"Do Believe"

I do, I do

I do believe in fairies

And fairy glades

And fairy wings

And lots of other fairy things

I do, I do,

I do believe in fairies.

And Santa Claus,

Yes I believe,

Is magical

For who would leave

My presents round the Christmas Tree

But Father  Christmas

Just for me.

And leprechauns, enchanted elves,

I do believe are casting spells

And witches, wizards,

It's all true

I do believe

And so should you.

For what is life

Unmagical but something rather tragical,

So do believe in what I say.

Don't let the magic

Go away.

In November, 2021, I caught COVID-19.

I was ill for a month.

(One year earlier, on 25th December, 2020, the virus had taken my father.)

Midway through my illness, on 16th November, I ventured out to my doorstep to look at the world.

It was still there; still turning without me.

Unaware of my absence.

That prompted me to write:

“Thoughts in Isolation”

Is this what it's like?

Being dead?

The world carries on

Not missing a beat

Barely noticing.

I stand at my door

Observing.

Nobody notices I'm gone

After day one.

Of course, they carry on

As I have often done.

It's eerie

Standing here

Watching the world turn without me

And puts me in my place.

I hope I don't die

But if I do, it's comforting to know

It won't matter much.

Look at that cat!

The cat

Sat on the

Rug.

And hey! there's a bug

As snug as a bug on a

Mat.

And now there's a frog

And a dog

On a

Branch.

And a mouse and a louse

Living in a small

Hotel.

It's a funny old place

Without rhyme

Without reason

There's a duck in a truck

But I don't give a

Fig

About that.

Or that silly old cat

In his hat.

Such a

Twerp!

In my impossible imagination

I fall in love with you,

Though my outer self

Says we'll never meet.

My inner self

Knows that isn't true.

For we are love.

He's hunched over

Eating

In his khaki green  jacket

Tomatoes and toast

Scrambled egg,

In his jacket

He looks all intense.

Yet

Supping his tea

He leans back in his chair

Crosses his legs

Like he hasn't a care

Like an Oxford professor

Then, like a fabled confessor

His lips start to chatter,

I'm quite startled at first

Maybe, something's the matter

Then he's back to his toast

And tomatoes and eggs

His demeanour quite harsh,

He uncrosses his legs

And returns to his complicated breakfast.

'To the Ending of the Storm'

When finally ceased

The howling of the winds

We heard birdsong.

Still waters

And clear blue skies.

Like a simile of a metaphor .

Peace in our time.

Declare not war,

Summoning storm clouds

But twitter and tweet in clear blue skies.

Be calm

And listen

To the ending of the storm.

And sing together .

Thank you, sorry

Sorry

Sorry

'Scuse me, sorry

My fault, thank you, sorry

Sorry

Sorry

Sorry

Thank you

Sorry

Sorry

Sorry

Fuck you!

Sorry.

This is our time:

"SAVIOURS"

Look.

In the distance of my eyes

Lies hope

Deep and real

Tears shed

For the dead

Revived in legends

As we stride the earth

Saving the living.

A child smiles

Through dripping eyes

And stained face.

The simple truth

Take my hand.

Take my faith.

Look life in the eye

And advance.

Undaunted

We progress.

Beyond their expectations.

Rebuilding truth

Returning hope.

The saviours of the nations.

It's a lazy label

For those unable

To mount a counter challenge.

Like Snowflake, Woke and Loony Leftard.

They can't redress the balance. So they shout names and use labels

To drown out arguments.

And labels stick.

Sneers replace thoughts.

That's all it is.