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A Little Shop in Manningtree


There’s a little shop in Manningtree

Number 28 above the door

Non-descript outside

But a treasure trove within.


This little store a metaphor

For the journey we call “Life”

The window display brightly lit

Filled with tempting bric-a-brac.


Looking from the outside

All is dark within

So impossible to see

The goods arranged for sale.


Step across the threshold

Boldly or with fear -

You may find what you’re looking for

Or you may just be surprised.


Entering the store called “Life”

We will never know

What it is we’ll find within

Or what – indeed – finds us.



Late At Night


Late at night I got to home

Returning from my travels.

You were sleeping peacefully

As I approached the bed

And lifting up the coverlet

I gently slid inside.


Wanting not to waken you

I slowly leaned across

To kiss your naked shoulder

And know once more

The heady taste –

Of your perfect skin.


In your sleep your hand reached out

And brushed against my cheek.

You knew it not but by that touch

All my chains were rent.

I broke free from the bonds of earth

And flew among the stars.