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Johnny’s got a pocketful of dreams -
it’s patched and there are cakecrumbs in the seams -
to you it may not be a lot
but all the treasure Johnny’s got,
he carries in his pocketful of dreams -
a beetle in a match box, a tiny piece of string,
some sealing wax and carpet tacks,
a bell that doesn’t ring -
When Johnny grows up to be a man,
into a world that’s tough,
he’ll soon be told his pocketful of dreams
won’t be enough -
but if he owns a great big car,
a swimming pool and yacht,
he’ll never be as happy
as the time when all he’s got
is a beetle in a match box, a tiny piece of string,
some sealing wax and carpet tacks,
a bell that doesn’t ring…..
Dear Sir,
I write to inform you that this journey of ours has come to an end. The men and women on board have lost what was known to them. They have given a mighty lot, and what they wished to succeed in has failed upon their brave hearts. We no longer know where it is we are going. Our sail has been ripped by the storm, and the compass points only to death. Spiritually, we are torn, our sweat has vanished into these waters like each drop meant nothing. We now wait for the journey back to shore. If we make it sir, we will always be watching these waters, a remembrance of what was lost; the water, the sand, what we once hoped for, now rests in its own melody, and us, in a new engagement yet reminded of what we once shared.
..we painted wispy souls, shared colours and omlettes, tackled and pinched and I knew, it was going to be one of those days I will keep. Darling you are the only person who makes me a bruise yet I ache with bittersweet joy!
You are a beautiful view,
that never tires my eyes.
I punch the walls of my house
Tear myself apart
Rebuild each part by part
Stack each brick, mend this heart.
Darling we won’t wear thin
The gravel will mould us in
And in to this space
You and I, through the differences
A message is clear
We are heroes of the heart
Lights years into mars.
