Saturday, 23 January 2016

WHEN I GROW OLD...




WHEN I GROW OLD....




When I grow old, I will not long for youth, 
rather I will celebrate what has gone before 
and look forward to what each day brings.
I will enjoy the company of myself, as well as that of family and friends..
of new discoveries, of revisiting old interests and developing new ones.
I will revel in choosing yes or no or maybe.. without guilt or reason.
I will enjoy friendships, both near and far....
I will take time to watch butterflies flit among the flowers
and listen to bird song every day...
I will drench myself in summer showers..
and sing in the moonlight...
I will write what I wish and read all I can...
Silken threads will be my palette
as I create simple things of beauty...
I will surround myself with roses and violets and daisies
I will bake at midnight if I wish
and eat fruit and cream for tea...
When I grow old, I will be me...

 (c)Crissouli Jan 24, 2016






Inspired by the post of my friend... Angela...

Sunday, 8 November 2015

BLANKET OF MUD






He found her in the sodden paddock, crying
her face and arms covered in mud.
He moved towards her, slowly,
taking her in his arms, ever so gently.
No words needed, none would be heard..
they'd been here before.
Slowly, they made their way back
to the old barn, filled with hay.
She wouldn't go to the house, not today.
As he helped her to sit, she pulled away.
He stepped back, watching from the shadows
his heart aching.
He wondered how long this would be
it mattered not, he would wait.
He owed her his life, she waited for him.
It'd been so long ago, in the fields of France.
He'd lain, covered in mud
near the village of Pozieres
all hope fading, till he felt her soft hand
wiping his brow and a cool, wet cloth touching his lips.
She'd almost stumbled over him
while searching for food in her father's field.
His next memory was of resting in a barn
half covered in old blankets and hay.
She nursed him back to health
over three long months
then helped him to get back to his unit. 

He returned, years after, to see the girl who saved him
she, no longer a girl, he, no longer a boy
but united forever.
They settled into farm life, far away
but the fields of France never left them.
He'd wait, she'd return, till the next time.

(c) Crissouli Nov 9, 2015

Tuesday, 27 October 2015

A WEE DROP








A WEE DROP



'twas a just wee drop, yor'oner
just  a wee drop..
with a house full of dotes 
and my man oft away
          sure, 'twas just a wee drop.
             I'm a respectable woman, yor'oner
            'twas just a wee drop for me nerves.
             My man's an upstanding gentleman
              please don't use his name here m'lord
              use me godgiven name, please yor'oner
            I won't drink a drop any more 
                Oh, thank you, yor'honer, yor worship
            Sure I'll find the 5s for poor!
        
                     (c) Crissouli October 2015



Inspired by a TROVE post...
http://thatmomentintime-crissouli.blogspot.com.au/p/trove-tattles.html

Saturday, 17 October 2015

TILL WE MEET AGAIN





TILL WE MEET AGAIN







Slowly, quietly, the days have slipped by 
tumbling together, till they became a year.
A year without you, can that be true
can you really have left us all behind?
I cannot remember a time 
when you weren't helping others
sometimes at great cost to your family time
or even your health
though you would never let on.
You left us a great legacy
of caring for others, of doing your best
of sharing whatever you could...
but most of all, your love of family.

Rest peacefully with Mum, Dad..
till we meet again.

© Crissouli October 18, 2015

Thursday, 27 August 2015

YEARS FLUTTER BY...










YEARS FLUTTER BY




I watched it, but I missed it
and it will never come again
I write because I love it
 I do now.. and way back then.
The words they come a'tumbling
I do not know from where
They pop in whene'er they want to
No matter what, without a care
I find it better to release them
For they are happy when I share..
Just three short years I've been here
sharing happy thoughts and sad
if you care to join and follow
I will try to make you glad.

(c) Crissouli Aug 2015

Saturday, 22 August 2015

JUST ONE MORE TIME...







JUST ONE MORE TIME...


Creative Commons





Smiles all round 
as the wonderful notes of Moonlight Serenade
wafted across the courtyard
toes tapped, fingers too
as Patty played her favourite tune.
She seemed lost in time
as she sat with her newspaper, in the sun
her ever present notebook on her lap.
The music faded away and Patty slept
not responding to the lunch call.

"Not to worry, she can have it later..."

"Time for a cuppa, I'll wake her now..."

A gentle touch, then quiet tears
Patty clutched a photo of her and her sweetheart
dancing in uniform.
on her notebook, the words
'seventy years ago, please, just one more time'

Dance on, dear Patty, dance on forever...


(c) Crissouli August 23, 2015