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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.