The dead sheep

One day I saw a sheep that drowned

In the estuary of the River Kent

It lay with blank eyes on the dirty sand close by the promenade at Arnside

The beautiful rivers are dangerous as is the sea.

Nothing can be perfect or lovely forever

But still the glory of my first vision will never leave me.

And the wildflowers and butterflies I still see in my mind’s eye

I would have liked to grow up in that freedom instead of the noxious industrial air in the mill town.

I can’t imagine heaven will be any better to me.

Emotional and psychological symptoms associated with the thyroid gland problems

The cat’s tail curves,a question mark of fur.

He walks along the path without a care

Happy in the garden long and thin

His feet caress the ground he walks upon.

He cannot lose this Eden by some sin

Underneath the maple tree red leaved

The sun makes patterns which the eye deceive

He runs about to play with leaves astray.

Enjoying the excitement of the fray.

I wish my heart was open to receive

My thoughts unlike the leaves won’t blow away.

So with my little cat I cannot play.

I wonder what the pain is in my head.

But I won’t leave the garden for my bed.

Yet with this contemplation I will pray.

I see that scene now in my own mind’s eye

I smile at first but then I start to sigh

Would that lovers died together well

In that little catacomb I dwell.

And yet I do not wish to say goodbye.

Time and space are like a great wide plain

The past,though present, cannot live again.