Fa – the name of the Green Dragon

A Place for the Odd Musings of an Expat Bristolian

Better Days Tomorrow

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BETTER DAYS TOMORROW

The sun is bright but the wind is cold.

Fine when I was young but now I’m growing old.

The weather chills me to the bone

And as I sit at home alone

I snuggle warm close to the fire

A cat purring like a feline choir.

I place sacrificial logs with care,

To burn with blue smoke and their heat to share

With all the empty corners of my dwelling.

What Joy! I hear a church bell knelling

] the death of winter. Jack Frost be gone.

And take your flaky friends.

Just step aside, make clear the way,

Spring would like to have her say.

Plants are stirring in the ground.

Soon I’ll see my garden crowned

With Snowdrops white and pure

Only then will I be sure

That spring will be here soon

And summer’s heated days of June.

When the sun makes it too warm to bask

There’s a question I’ll no doubt ask

Jack Frost where did you go?

I know this might sound quite bold

But deep down I prefer the cold.

Even if the cold winds blow

Winter’s snow is one great show.

You can’t hear snowflakes when they fall

They arrive in silence to cover all

To hide the ugly sites we make

And all the features which are fake.

Like diamonds scattered everywhere

Crystal beauty free to share

With all of those with eyes to see

One does not ask how this can be.

Nature’s majesty and splendor

Behind each season’s door.

Cold, hot warm and even wet:

Each day I wake gets better yet.

Author: Cethru Cellophane

I have reached the regrettable realization that I may have squandered my life. I did a quick count recently and figured that I have visited about 66 countries, and lived for more than 3 years in 3 of them. During this time I completed 14 corporate moves (relocations) and have changed my address more than 23 times. I should have settled on a profession that would have kept me in one place with no packing and unpacking. When I think of the time I have spent bundling my life into and out of boxes. Ah well, it's all water under the bridge. But I am grateful for the experience. At the end of the day I will be able to say with a certain authority, "been there, done that". A note about this site’s Header Image The Header image for this site is of the Smith Avenue High Bridge. The bridge was built in 1889 and carries Minnesota State Highway 149 across its span of 2770 feet, 160 feet above the mighty Mississippi River. The picture was taken from the river looking to the north-east and downtown Saint Paul. The bridge is about 1040 miles from New Orleans. One of the reasons I like this view is that I come from a city which has a spectacular bridge. It’s the Clifton Suspension Bridge http://www.ikbrunel.org.uk/clifton-suspension-bridge which spans the Avon Gorge and the River Avon in Bristol, U.K. It’s about 1350 feet long and stands 245 feet above the river below. Sadly it has claimed the lives of more than 400 people who have committed suicide by jumping from the bridge. As a side note, not all attempts were successful. two small girls thrown off the bridge by their deranged father survived the fall when they were fished from the river by the crew of a passing pilot boat. The bridge was opened in 1864 and was designed by the 24 year old architect, Isambard Kingdom brunel. It took 35 years to complete.

5 thoughts on “Better Days Tomorrow

  1. How do you do this? I love the way you write these poems that roll on and on there like waves ebbing and flowing. Is this a new one of yours or one from the garage. When are you going to start doing the daily word post? It’s great fun to add the suggested word within what you write and it gets a much better readership too …. 🙂

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  2. Thank you once again Elaine. Most of this comes from boxes of stuff written years ago all of it handwritten. Of course it all needs work before posting. Some of it is rather dark. Don’t remember what was going on in my life at the time. Some of it sloppy too. Not familiar with the daily word challenge.

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  3. Heartwarming, and although I dislike wet winters (for all sorts of reasons) I tend to enjoy each season more and more as I get older. Fine poem.

    Liked by 1 person

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