It looks like you're new here. If you want to get involved, click one of these buttons!
There is wind where the rose was,
Cold rain where sweet grass was,
And clouds like sheep
Stream o'er the steep
Grey skies where the lark was.
Nought warm where your hand was,
Nought gold where your hair was,
But phantom, forlorn,
Beneath the thorn,
Your ghost where your face was.
Cold wind where your voice was,
Tears, tears where my heart was,
And ever with me,
Child, ever with me,
Silence where hope was.
November by Walter de la Mare
Here are the jokes I shared in today's Live Chat session on Skype:-
Micky was working so hard carrying bricks up and down a ladder that his work mates started to get worried about him. ‘Why are you working so hard Micky?’ they asked. “Don’t worry,’ Micky replied, ‘I’ve got them fooled, it’s the same load of bricks each time.’