ok

Breakfast at Pippins. So much comes into view Behind the glass - is nothing new? A king beside a pope has Tears starting from their dewy rims Poor Charles, over everything. The day was grim, yet sparkles Came none the less, as I ate My sausage, bacon and fried bread And into Pippins came a friend, I was glad to see a friendly face, amen. And bit by bit we shall see grapes Clamber up the sprouting vines - And all the old ladies doing fine Right there, where the buses park Another load before it’s dark. The bus I took went the long Way round, but for my sins I didn’t Give a damn, to Shurdington And Brockworth out way yonder A day rider at the back Another quiet, navy, quilted anorak. But in some small way it was A victory, to sit upon the vinyl Seat clutching my bag, my keys my phone, 8 miles from my temporary home. A grotty hotel, not fit for man nor beast, but I shall not tarry Have no fear! For though these days pinch and press, the holy spirit holds me in his loveliness. And though the wars go on No one can steal Christ’s Love away, and remember We are put on earth just four Score years and ten. And then we fall asleep To dream, the long unfolding Hyper-scene where joyfulness Never sleeps, no more tears For what has been, for death Is life, with a brighter, better sheen. 23/10/2025.