Faded

FADED

Once a picture full of colour,

But now it's better expressed by duller

Shades and sepia, grey and white,

Nothing too vibrant or too bright.

For this is a faded memory

Of happy days that used to be.

When Blake was only very small

And Mike, his friend, seemed very tall.

Life is still happy and full of fun,

But those early days are done.

Blake is now nearly as tall as me!

Time takes the colour from memory.

*

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WIDDERSHINS!

What a wondrous word is Widdershins!

It makes it very clear

That it means 'going the wrong way';

Onamatapoea!

It once meant 'anticlockwise'

Or going 'against the sun',

But I associate it with wind

When it's having a bit of fun.

It can widdershin the scudding clouds

Across a blustery sky

It can widdershin the breeze-blown trees

When their branches scrape the sky.

It can widdershin our neat-combed hair

Till it blows across our faces,

And none of our careful coiffured 'bits'

Are staying in their places!

It can whip stray hairs into our eyes!

Then, when we think it's easing,

It can suddenly blow the other way

To prove that it was teasing!

It's good to follow a well-worn path

And to be neat and obey.

But oh the joy of Widdershins

When we get blown away!

*