Under the EyE in the sky.

I am the writer, who never wrote a word,

I am the pauper, who never saw a bird,

Or listen as the church bells,

Would BOLDLY ring,

Or the early morning song bird,

To beautifully Sing.

and all of this time, I was oblivious....

BUT I Was there....   ....to listen.

and open my eyes for the light,

Although subconsciously I laid,

With the Lizzards of the night.

For I am their slave,

Under the EYE in the sky,

and all of this time,

I never saw you cry.

I am the pauper, who never wrote a word,

I am the writer, who never saw a bird,

But I was there on that morning,

and listen to her sing....

and she floated through all of the colours,

That the rainbow could possibly bring.

I missed that chance to smile....

For I still fear what the day could bring,

but unlike an innocent child at play,

I am naive enough to Pray.

I hope for the day, I can watch you smile,

I pray for the innocence, of the modern child.

I cross my fingers,

For our peace to arrive,

Because sometimes I forget,

We´re alive.

Skegness, April 2010