Plant me a tree

If I dont make it home, plant me a tree
Which grows a little taller every year
And when you see a solitary bird
Believe I’m thinking of you and I’m near

Sing Jerusalem, sing it with great pride
For everything you are and yet to be,
Your kindness is the greatest gift you have,
You gave it,without faltering, to me

If I dont make it home, I will lament,
you’ll hear it in the north wind as it sighs
But I would never change the life I got,
or choose to see the world through different eyes

There are so many cards that might yet fall,
I need an ace or two to get me by,
I dont know if I’ll ever make it home,
the only thing that matters is I try


Sing (written for Shel Nix)

Sing so they can hear your voice in heaven
No matter if you’re in or out of tune,
Keep dancing to the rhythm of the Earth
As though you’re dancing days are over soon

Wish on every star and every moonbeam,
Expect that you’ll see magic everywhere,
Be as fierce and fragile as the ocean,
Be who you are and let the people stare

Our precious lives are weighted down by chains
And burdens that the others just don’t see,
But they dont see such glory in a sunset
Or know the value of their liberty

Laugh with every atom of your being
And know you’ve grown into the strongest bloom,
One that reaches for the touch of daylight
Even in the soliloquy of gloom


There are so many dreams left to be dreamt,
So many burning comets left to chase,
I want the time enough to truly live,
To know I’ve found my reason and my place

I dont want to be ill, to die so young,
To be a life that never got to start,
I want to paint the canvas of the world
With all the rainbow colours of my heart

I often dont know how I’ll make it through
Or where my story is supposed to end,
The train has runaway with me on board,
Not knowing what is just around the bend

There are so many treasures left to find,
So many moments I don’t want to miss,
But if I do at least I have known love,
There is no greater legacy than this…..

Dressed in Black

The angel dressed in black came by today,
I’ve never seen a face so tired and sad,
He took a friend from us and as he did
He said “It shouldn’t ever be this bad

No one should have to suffer like this soul
Or have to fight with every nerve and bone
Against an illness so entirely cruel,
Or have to stand so utterly alone

Without a doctor anywhere in sight,
No healer bringing what small grace they can,
What reason could condone this lack of care?
They didn’t have the answers so they ran

And greed and money lured them to endorse
The hundred lies that led me to be here
To claim another victim of M.E
Who should have lived with light, not died in fear

It shouldn’t ever be this bad you know,
But most of all the thing that makes me weep
Is how courageous this soul had to be
Before I was allowed to grant it sleep”


I would give you yellow roses
If I even knew your name,
Sometimes we have to face the worst
And there’s no one we can blame

Every silver lining’s clouded
When the rain pours from the skies
But you’ll often find an ending
Is a new leaf in disguise

For the ant there is a forest
Which to us is merely grass,
If we saw the bigger picture
We would know our pain will pass

Attitudes are slow in changing,
Thought moves at the speed of  snails,
I see the garden stepping stones
Where they leave quiksilver trails

The impossible can happen
(Like a snowflake in July),
Have faith in a new tomorrow
That belief will get you by


The Ballerina with her swan-like grace
Turns pirouettes across the spot-lit stage,
There is no watching crowd but she feels free
Of tragedy and sorrow, without age

Her arabesque’s are proud and so is she                                                                                                                                                                    Of  her precision and that noble stance,
Have years or seconds passed since she began
The elegant and time-bewitching dance?

There is no pain or thought, just steps well learnt
Put to the music of her beating heart,
The empty auditorium is still
And she is like a moving work of art