Waiting... Time flows swiftly, fast. Days march on, stomping through. Weekends evaporate like pixie dust. But still I wait for you. And each hour lasts and lasts. The calendar remains firmly fixed. Just will my patience hold? And still I wait for you. My worries tangle fast, my dreams are non too sweet. Panic never strays. But this is just the start. And still I wait for you. My tiny golden seed. My last chance, of hope and completeness. And I will you on, with love so great and prayers galore. And still I wait for you.

Hello My Golden Seed Hello my golden seed, Nestled deep inside. I marvel at your secret, That I have never seen. But time is cruel, And nature mean. I feel you can not stay. The choice is bleak my love. Selfish thoughts drift, Silent meanness swells. Though sweetly on you bloom, Silent shines your innocence. But minds can change, And mine is far from set. I may still see you flower, My tiny golden seed.

I Know We Are A Pain But .... #internationalwomensday I adore being a girl, a woman, a lady or a lass. I simply wouldn't change it for the world but don't get me wrong I know we are a pain! I appreciate we moan and nag and our moodiness must be a drag. We bitch, gossip and connive and nothing is ever black and white with us. We are unpredictable and make simple things hard. I realise that to men we must be an unfathomable maze that sometimes seems just too hard to solve. And when my boys are grown I will warn them of the dangers we possess. The wickedness and slyness girls use to tempt and torture men. However, despite all of that I KNOW we are the fairer sex. The strongest people I have ever met are women. Our sacrifice knows no bounds. Intelligence and drive to succeed where men would stop. To face horror, danger and death in order to make a stand or save another #life. This is why we have been given the role of growing new #life. I am a career mummy and I realise I can't have it all. I don't wish to belittle men, I think they are just great! But being a girl is best and hurrah for a day to celebrate that!

Dream State -next Part The face looking back at me looked spoilt. Puffy white cheeks with sunken eyes ringed in black tiredness. My dark lashes clumped together and you could hardly tell that my eyes were blue. Tucking my damp and greasy hair behind my ear showed the bruise on my neck, a waning crescent that was turning purple hues. I started the shower. "Is this a late brunch or an early lunch?" Dad joked passing me a bagel for the toaster. " You up for school tomorrow?" "Yes, of course." My voice was upbeat. I really did want to go back, I was stifled and uneasy cooped up in the house. "And your counsellor recommended this? " Mum interjected switching the kettle on. "We agreed..." My Dad answered pointedly. He gave my shoulders a squeeze as we both watched Mum strop from the room. "I'm only asking, she's just so private and just so difficult with the truth these days." Mum called from her place in the lounge with a teenage twinge to her voice. I winced, Dad took it to mean I was stung by her harshness and kissed me on the head. I winced from the sting of the evil bird kisses. Walking away with warm bagel in hand I smiled, back to school, more freedom and the prospect of more kick arse kisses from Tobi. I pushed the dark force that had put me into his arms far from my mind. I would find some answers, it wasn't just in my mind but for now I wanted to cradle the thought of him not it.

Dream State- Formally No Title I rubbed my lips, feeling stinging pleasure wiggle into my finger tips. I sat up in bed, rumpled and sweaty. Stretching and sighing, an ache spread through me. Wanting him to touch me and kiss me, it bore right into me in a most basic fashion. Typical the boy of my dreams is actually in my dreams! Smiling to myself I inched myself out of my warm covers. Forgetting I had slept in my Converses my foot slipped, looking down I had trod on my sketch book. The book lay twisted and a page was torn where I had slipped on it, reaching down I hesitated... Something felt wrong. And there I spied the wrongness. Drawn across my sculpture design, in scrawling pen and ink sat three birds. Sinister silhouettes both mocking and reminding and as my finger left the page I realised the ink was still wet.