60 Seconds - A poem

Sun kissed the lovers heads
Like a whisper on the breeze
Locked in each others hearts
60 precious moments
Stolen from one hour

Slices of salted tomato
shared by each others lips
The burning sun
Our burning hearts
As slowly she sliced through
one apple of love

Sun shines upon us
Eyes sparkle in the light
Stolen moments
Stolen glances
Witnessed by the whispering trees

But all too soon
That one hour is gone
Back to reality
The lovers are bourne
Those precious moments shared together
Live in their entwined hearts forever

The Festive Madness

Well thats the end of that, the madness that was Christmas & New Year, the end of the blank eyed zombie stares as we rush from one shop to the next, joining cancelled Eurostar style queues with the rest of the blank eyed zombies,looking for the last bag of sprouts, that lonesome parsnip berating its self for not being picked and left reeling like an X Factor reject.

Will you miss the Christmas Eve sale slashing offering you 70% off last summer's bikini that you think Great Auntie Rosina might wear? When in all reality, all you really wandered in for was 2 litres of milk & a loaf of bread? Hmmm

Then we had respite from that chaos for a whole 40 hrs until Boxing Day at 10am, you are there, again, armed with a trolley to elbow jive with hirtling grannies who clear the shelves faster than a Dale Winton trolley dash, unless of course you are one of the die hards who queued up on Boxing Day morning at 3am to enter the Aladden laid Next Sale, starting at 5am. Or did you?

Perhaps you were one of the many people who balanced their Christmas Dinner on a tray on their lap, while they perused the online sales, one hand to eat, one hand to click onto shopping basket. The early bird who grabbed all the best bargains? Did you really grab anything? Think of what you missed, time to chill out, spend it with your family & loved ones, go for a walk in the snow? Watching the final adventures of the tenth Doctor (Had to mention David Tennant at least once!)

Christmas was once a time of celebration - now it has become the season of madness. The red mist of materialism that slowly strips away the Season of Nowell & offers instead brings in the Jingle Bells of the cash register.