Be Happy For Me

I held his hand when I was young,
I held it when his life was done,
Held it as he sighed his last -
Recalling times, and glories passed.

Then, as a child and hoisted high
I soared with clouds, became the sky,
When riding on his shoulders broad
No oceans depths could we not ford.

I never thought to see him weak
That words, he would choke to speak,
To see him quietly lying there,
How tortured is my own despair?

The finest words, he spoke, when well,
Before that black and final knell,
My mentor still now on the ear
And freely rolls the grieving tear.

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poem by John Thomas
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Poppy The Fairy

Upon a bank beneath a tree
Beside a trickley brook,
Upon an upturned nutshell I saw a fairy stood.

I offered her a sandwich and asked of her, her name?
“Poppy Bell”, she quick replied, and “This ham is rather tame, ”
I thought this oh so curious as in the bread was game.

I took the fairy home with me for a cup of tea,
“Would you like one lump or two? ” Said she “I will take three! ”
I’d never known a fairy take three sugars in her tea.

So filled to brim with sandwiches and tea up to her head,
That little Fairy Poppy Bell dozed off upon my bed
At lunchtime she was snoring loud by teatime she was dead!

It may have been the sandwiches; it may have been the bed,
It may have been the sugared tea that to Poppy’ I fed,
I’m not sure what it really was that made that fairy dead.

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poem by John Thomas
Added by Poetry Lover
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