My sister’s eyes were sea green and deep

Like pools in the Irish sea off the coast off Anglesey.

Moelfre where she swam ,despite the cold,

Like a small seal.Night times I told her stories,

She lay and dreamed them till schooltime

But we grew beyond my storytelling

When adolescence drew us apart.

Years later

As I sat with her child

At my knee,

Weaving stories for her

Around the Russian horse

From the antique shop in Aldeburgh,

I saw my sister leaning towards us,

Her green eyes full of long-lost yearning.

I realised she was still my loving little sister,

From long, so long ago, her green eyes,

In the deep caves of her inner sea ,filled with longing.

I felt she wanted to get back

Into the magic circle

Of the arms of the mother we

No longer had to hold us.

So, I took her inside my heart,

And hold her  there always

Dearest sister how I miss your eyes

Grey green as the sea as up it rides

In the sadness of the water as it sighs

In the squelching of the sand beneath the tide

Sister dearest sister I’m alone

I miss your quiet voice I miss your face

I cannot reach you now by telephone

But loving memories are not erased

Last year you came to visit me at home

You  filled my fridge with food you were so kind

Now I feel the sadness in my bones

I only see you here within my mind.

The inner seas are wild they moan with grief

Time goes slow, we weep, we are bereaved

It was only Mee

You certainly get your wordsworth from my blog.

The beach was way too shelley for me on Saturday.

I hate eyre so much,I never want to see eyre again. Otherwise Jane.

Shakespeares somewhere else please.

I hughes the royal mail sometime.

I spender money often and she is ok with that.

My book is jew to be published in the spring.

I wish the leaves did not russell.

I do like a whitehead of eyre.

She’s too austen-tashius for me.

My baby was over jew but he war fein after birth.

I want a War on peace .

I don’t get the Tolstoy eyrie.

I hope to make a prophet this year or the next..

I don’t noah at all,just crossed plaths with her now and then

I saw him last eve or defoe yesterday

Mary’s eyre’s amazing since it was trimmed.

I want to Reed the reel Hebrew ribald soon.

I wrote my last will in the Old Testament.It’s out of Tate now

I believe in tragic.

It’s a tolstoyrie. What I believe in..

Dostoyevsky………I can’t even spell it.

Tell a lie if you Khan. What about , pilates?

Nobody asked you to Pontius

Sylvia,there was method in her sadness.

My sister went to pilates but she said who is going to Pontius?

I never cared when evelyn swore.

Mantels masterpiece confabulation

https://www.google.com/search?q=butterfly%27s+wing+effect&oq=butterfly%27s+wing+effect&gs_lcrp=EgZjaHJvbWUyBggAEEUYOTIICAEQABgWGB4yCAgCEAAYFhgeMggIAxAAGBYYHjIICAQQABgWGB4yCAgFEAAYFhgeMggIBhAAGBYYHjIICAcQABgWGB4yCAgIEAAYFhgeMggICRAAGBYYHjIICAoQABgWGB4yCAgLEAAYFhgeMggIDBAAGBYYHjIICA0QABgWGB7SAQg5MzIxajBqN6gCFLACAfEFFl6TiZe73XA&client=ms-android-motorola-rvo3&sourceid=chrome-mobile&ie=UTF-8

Do good and move on (from those who hurt you)