Poems by Laura Sanders

Autumn leaves dance gaily around,
they swirl in a haze towards the ground.
Auburns, golds, russets, too,
offering different shapes, differing hues.

The wind picks up and blows the trees.
The foliage is carried from the canopies.
Fine English Oak and Beeches shed all to the land.
Maples and Sycamores add to the dance.

Falling, falling with the season's formation,
picking up speed, they collect for soil fermentation.
Witnessing the act brings happiness, delight,
but it can also be a sobering, somber sight.
Winter will at last be on its way.
The cold, icy blast will freeze leaves well away...

After the snowfall.

The snow flakes fall like soft, downy feathers from the sky.
Soon it drifts and piles up, as I look outside.
The landscape transformed, looks clean and bright,
hills and lanes, seem fresh and white.
The virgin snow, beckons me to come outside and play.
Already visitors have been, as I make my way.
Bird prints, a cat's paw marks, dog tracks, galore-
have impacted the snow, more and more...
Seems I am not alone, in this winter landscape,
where crystals, has fallen, from an ice maiden's cape.
Soft caterpillars of white snow, cover objects in the garden.
Elsewhere, water has frozen, and like tough glass, has hardened.
As I crunch about ,in my snow boots, hat and warm scarf,
I feel once more enlivened, as I make a foot print path...

Like a golden fanfare of trumpets, they herald entrance of Spring.
Appearing on warmer days, when happier the  birds fly and sing....
As yellow as the gold sun, that shines, they sway in the breeze,
Daisies, Buttercups cannot compete, attracting passing bumble bees.
On banks along garden edges, brightening up landscape stark,
sunshine flora laps up the sun, hating the wet and dark.
Elegant long stalks, looks attractive in a vase.
Seen in houses, gardens and out of windows of our cars.
To see Spring flowers and beauty, I needn't venture, too far.

The Halloween dance.

I once woke up in the middle of the night,
as Midnight struck, late, late at night.
I came downstairs feelin' kinda sick,
I saw creatures dancin' to Halloween music!

At the dance, at the dance, at the dance, at the dance...


There was a witch doin' a broomstick dance
and ghosts of local graveyards, prancing in a trance.
There was an ugly werewolf, howling on all fours,
and Dracula with his cape, tangoed to the scores!

At the dance, at the dance, at the dance, at the dance!

A she -monster she did a gay Foxtrot,
while Frankenstein gave it all he'd got.
Bat people were doing a paso doble,
whilst a black cat, with green eyes, glowered my way,

At the dance, at the dance, at the dance, at the dance!

Pumpkins were doing a strange kind of waltz.
I had to scream, call it to a halt.
They were jumpin' and  a  jivin',  with twists and turns,
completely unaware, whilst the candle- light burns......

At the dance, at the dance, at the dance, at the dance!

The spooks and creatures didn't fade away,
when I drew back the curtains and let in the day.
So I knew, I  just could  not win,
so I danced with a were -wolf and I joined in!!

At the dance, at the dance, at the dance, at the dance!!

Gran- what is it like to be so old?
This, may I ask and to be so bold!
Do you ache and pain like me,
or do you still feel lively, energetic, free...?

Do people really respect your views?
Or do they secretly laugh at you?
Or do they marvel at your age?
Or is it like turning the same old page?

Do you long to be young again?
To relive your  time, in life's short game?
Would you do things differently
and someone else, you would rather be?

Gran, smile, put on your happy grin,
even if it is difficult within.
You'll fool them all with all those years,
you will reduce them all, to smiling tears!

A benchmark, you have now surpassed,
You're best years, have now since passed.
You've now lived through, your hope and fears,
You've reached your golden years!

Why is a garden snail so slow?
Has he no place to go?
With his house upon his back-
he doesn't even need, to pack!

If it gets too hot, he just sleeps,
inside his shell he retreats.
He feels safe inside,
where he isn't heated and dried!

If it rains, he soundly sleeps,
until he's ready to peep.
He comes out, he loves the damp,
sliding along, up and down ramps.

Leaving his glittery, silvery trail,
how happy are wet slimy snails!
Then he sticks to an old, hard rock,
do not disturb him and do not knock!

'Cause snail has found his safe abode,
with his shell home, which is his load.
Snail is slow, cause he needs to find,
his perfect pitch, for peace of mind!

Seems like only the other day, you paddled , in that hol' seaside rock pool.
Only the other day, you fed us lunch, when we were kids at school.
You packed our hol' suitcases into the car boot, so they snugly fit.
At Christmas you danced with vigour, to some Abba disco hits!

Parties, weddings, get-togethers, meals seems we did it all.
Relatives and friends came to us for company, you really had a ball.
But time moves so slowly, then faster, now you've reached the end.
You're left wondering where everyone is, Where are all your friends?

The egg-timer is running out, but the sand is still flowing through...
Reaching your final furlong, what else is there for you to do?
Long Summer times have passed, you've watched seasons come and go.
Now only sadness seen in your eyes, realising it may soon end you know.

How quickly a lifetime passes, it seems like ages when we are young.
Thinking we have all the time in the world, before our time is done.
But we must grasp the nettle, cause life can end any time.
Just enjoy our visit, either short or long, make it meaningful and fine!

Magical March comes limping in, bringing the mad wind and the rain,
but eventually the sunlight brightens the day, and we're all happy again!
Slowly the flowers spring to life, dancing Daffodils, sunny Celandines.
Its a taster of what is heading our way, beautiful Summer time!

The fairies flutter again, in the forest glades, as does the woodland Leprechauns,
the rabbits, gaily hop around, deer and foxes smile to see sunshiney morns!
Spring's bounty is on it's way, when buds open and lambs are not so forlorn.
Nothing is so drear and dark again, the magic of Spring is born!!

Rows of creeping, tangled, knotted runner -bean Vines
twist and turn, growing up netting and poles in lines...
Tiny, red flowers attract bees and insects to visit and pollinate.
"Come enter and taste before it's too late !"
Elsewhere, lush lettuces appeal to any Beatrix Potter character, utter temptation !
Delicious carrots, with fine leafy tops protrude, without hesitation .
Swathes of potato flowers plants, surge over the veg plot -
where compost manure and organic soil lies, in humus and then rots.
Neat lines, measured out by string and rusty iron poles-
Growing tasty fresh veg, the ultimate goal!!
Fruits, picked by hand from plant. to box to crate .
Satisfaction and reward , for" growing your own " is great!

A mother is someone who cares,
Someone who will readily share.
Who tries to bandage up cut knees,
Who likes to give and to please.

A mother is someone who smiles a lot.
A mother is someone who gives all she's got.
She loves to make others smile,
Tries to go that extra mile...

A mother like this is a rare gemstone.
With a mother like this, you'll never feel alone,
For a mother can be your best friend,
Caring, sharing, pleasing to the very end.