Thoughts

Autumn’s​ finale.

On opening my front door this morning,

I saw the beauty of autumn calling,

jewels from heaven falling down to earth,

the season heralding the saviours birth.

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As bronze tipped gold and copper snow,

softly carpets the ground below,

I wonder by chance if the wise men three,

would give a gift of golden leaves,

for a baby king to lay his head,

an autumnal quilt for the royal bed.

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Soon we will leave this season of colour

and open our doors to a season of wonder.

Where children’s eyes are filled with dreams,

of Santa’s sleigh and nativity wings,

and  autumn will be but a memory once more,

and the scene will be new

when I open my door.

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Love Alison x

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Thoughts

Autumns song

Driving a familiar route

I turn off the radio,

and tune into Autumns voice.

She’s singing a colourful melody

and notes of pumpkin, orange and lime

infuse the air.

Her jewel laden arms wave at me,

and I smile back

  as once again,

  asking nothing of me,

     she performs her most beautiful song

 

 

Love Alison x

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Thoughts

Listening in on Fistral Beach.

 

“Give it a magic tap Lilly”

A squeal of delight as a bucket is lifted,

and Lilly’s first sandcastle stands proud.

A little room for improvement,

with jagged turrets and crumbling  walls,

but isn’t that how a perfect sandcastle should be.

Built with enthusiasm

excited smiles, and

a bit of help from Dad.

                                                                                ~

“Dont knock it down yet!”

Lilly’s face crumbles

a little like the walls

of her sandcastle built,

but Dad has other plans

grand ideas for his pride and joy.

A row of ten and

then,

“then you can knock them down Lilly”

                                                                                 ~

Dad and Lilly work hard

Magic taps abound

buckets are filled and emptied

with salty tasting sand

and love,

and as the tide turns

Father and Daughter stand back

admiring what they have built

together.

                                                                                ~

“Go on then Lilly”

With a hint of the rascal

a little girl runs,

jumps, twists and turns.

Sand castles once standing tall

now flattened with childish glee.

                                                                                 ~

As the tide creeps in

bags are packed,

sandy little toes are dried

and a small hand is held.

Looking back over his shoulder

as the last remnants of their handiwork

are gently washed away

Dad smiles to himself.

“Well done Lilly”

 

 

By Alison Fielding x

 

 

Thoughts

Lifted.

Today I heard

a beautiful sound.

an orchestra,

 finely tuned

by natures hand.

A blend of notes

diverse as could be

cacophonous,  yet

harmonious,

lifting me.

A feathered voice choir

A melody divine,

no ticket needed

just ears,

and time.

 

By Alison Fielding .

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Poems

Hope.

 

When life is tough
And all is dark
And the tunnels end
is out of sight,
And days are endless
and minutes as hours
tick slowly by
as a fretful night.
Make hope your friend.

When love is lost
and grief weighs down
and tears like raindrops
fall from the heart,
and the moments on waking
are too much to bare
and your faced with a day
that has no start.
Make hope your friend.

Hope is the buoy 
that keeps you afloat
that steers your ship
through the roughest of storms,
the northern star
and guiding light
the unseen blanket
keeping you warm.

The upholder of dreams
the strength to move on
the path to a future
when none can be seen,
an acceptance of now
knowing change will come
And flowers will blossom
where thorns had once been

Hope.




By Alison Fielding.

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Poems

Snowdrops.

 

As dark days of Winter
begin to abate
and the face of hope
is not far away,
first signs of spring 
begin to show
small white heads 
above the snow.
Reminding the heart
that dark times fade
and sadness for laughter
we can trade,
as nature performs
her wonderful thing,
the changing of seasons
from Winter to Spring.



By Alison Fielding.

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Poems

The Date.

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Smart and neatly turned out
she shifts from foot to foot.
Nervously waiting
expectant, anticipating.

Black dress, polished shoes
a smudge of red a dob of rouge
a bag, its contents checked
through and through

A gold watch on her wrist
ticks loud with every second passing,
a quick check in a shop window
a reassessment of things not lasting.

She turns,
another wasted evening.





By Alison Fielding.