'''When all the birds have flown,
remains their song....;;;--------ma'am Ann

but you are not left alone
younger kids join in to read
what in spring one was sown

and

a dream we harvest....
ere tis autumn
let all bygones be bye- gones

strength within 1940 born...
is reborn
and
the pen strikers continue to remain on
yet as powerful
if not more
so you too must carry on...

There is yet to be many a morn
when poetry should rise
like sunnier summer sunrise

I watched a leaf float from a tree,
no breeze to guide its path,
it flew as delicately as a flake of snow,
undetermined where to go,
landing here on branches, there buoyed up,
its ariel shape,
its colour brown and pale,
and with its gentle dance
my thoughts began to meditate
on autumn's quiet expressions,
their subtle grace;
it landed with a little sound,
a full stop as it found its place
among its colleagues on the ground.

There are no happy ever afters
on this side of Gloomy Hill.

Most smiles are feigned
as are the faulty souls
that look through squinted windows
at a world turned black and grey.

There is no joy,
but only sadness,
masked behind a cordial mien
that shouts conflicting creeds
in its undertones.

Laughter is a chorus
of broken glass
against entombed regrets
but I am the eye that sees
into the darkness.

There are no happy ever afters
in a world of broken things,

Mounted on a big red.
That is as rough as its rider.
Sits the Great Weird Elf.
He’s so proudly the leader
With a cackling Kookaburra,
on his shoulder.

Feared by so many
His pen sharp as a sword
A pen that was hardened
To the strength of steel
By years of learning
Word cutting, no yield,
without fear he does wield
A great choice
To lead in the fight
Poetic justice
Their banner declares

Flanked on either side,
By his maids in arms (Not his Arms)
He fights but causes no harm.