It was called the blue tunnel Because of the blue flowers That saturated the nearby fields

I was born is this part of the country And farmed until I was twenty three The following year I died suddenly During a war that did not interest me

Last summer I was walking along The line of an old railway When I came across The statue of an evacuee Sitting on a bench At a refurbished country station A small plaque explained That her name was June Rodgers And that five years before my visit She had returned to Ropley Marks To unveil…

I used to travel between Station A and Station D A journey of about thirty minutes I always sat in the same seat And soon became aware That the girl opposite me Shared the same habit We exchanged glances The odd smile but little else She knew that I liked football As I always read…

Who is Colin Dale How should I know I have noticed That ewe have been signing Your books using that name Is this another of your silly games Yes and no What do you mean Whenever I sign a book I always ask permission After explaining my reasons Bully 4 ewe Are you going to…

The breeze whispers Yet my chimes remain still A storm is brewing Out at sea

All that effort Just to find One leaf Do not Think ill Of me

Why are you constructing A boat in the desert The sea has not been here For millions of years

You live on the dry scorched rocks That lead to the seas of parting When the night fails You will still be dancing In the shadows of Orita

Not hidden but painfully shy I understand your reluctance To mix freely on wet warm days Within these secret locations