From the high peak of the middle years
We walk downwards slowly but it’s clear.
We lose our parents siblings other kin
Who will now agree we are born to win?
Our bodies stiffen while we’re yet alive
Who will die,atone,does God decide?
From the man he takes the caring wife
The heart itself will harden in the strife
Last Man standing is a bag of bones
In his grave the king decays alone.
Ond day the evil, wicked witch caught a great s hoal of sardines in her net.The silvery little fish were taken away to a big factory.They were washed free from saltwater and packed tightly into little tins .I expect you have heard someone say.It was so crowded on the train,I felt like a sardine.What was worse still was that the sardines were covered in tomato sauce and that is evil because tomatoes do not grow under the sea or even in ponds and lakes.If you had seen the sardines lying side by side with their eyes gazing blankly at you,you might have had a bad dream…Finally the tins were sealed and a small key was fastened to the outside to enable people to open the tin and gobble up the sardines on a slice of lovely thick toast covered in the very best butter available.What a fate for these beautiful fish to be lying in tins on a shelf in the supermarket,never to swim in the sea again.To all appearances they were dead and were preserved only be special techniques developed by the food industry.?Have you ever wondered why milk never goes sour and bread stays useable for a week or more?Well, later on we may learn more about why this is but now I’d like you to think about all the sardines lying in those little flat tins and ask yourself whether you’d like that to be the end of your life..Unless you are very odd I imagine it’s a fate worse than death to you and so it was to these little sardines snatched from the sea where they were free to frolic all day long darting in and out of the strange eery plants that grow on the ocean bed far away from wars and politics and dread.