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| 'Strange Little Thing' by Trish |
I watch feet pass by, they tell me stories,
My bowed head tells them mine,
Yet part of me cannot deny, the holiday mood,
Carried by the breeze.
The stone seat, numbs my buttocks,
I've tipped my head back hard, and through,My tears, I see him. A cheeky cherub.
He's been perched in place, over David Jones,
Ready to thumb his nose, shout obscenities,
at the crowd below, ready to jump onto my shoulders,
Tweak my nose, pull my hair, and he does!!
And he wakes me UP!
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| "My Best Friend' by Trish |
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