I am restoring my dignity now;
left tainted by your conceited ethos...

I gather kindling of compulsion
shavings of cravings...

The cooling breeze and joyous summer sun
Have woken up my heart and made it shine...

often, a place I would be seen
was at the bus-mans club canteen...

..break me down with the slightest touch,
and leave me leant upon a crutch...

Somewhere-
buried deep...

Show us to a way so we can then show
train us in ways so as we can then train...

leaves saunter the air
the wind shakes hands with Autumn...

With oaken roots, an English rose did grow
from natures womb a noble tree was born...

My ink runs slow, my mind subdued
So many words, are misconstrued...

The atmosphere congealed-
with his silent mood...

The distance between two hearts
is shortsightedness...