Here comes Christmas

Here comes Christmas once again, no snow yet, but plenty of rain. Tinsel shimmering, lights aglow, Children waiting for Santa to show. There is excitement round the fair, here comes the parade with horses, and a dancing bear. Reindeers pulling Santa’s sleigh, With dots of presents on display. Pipers piping, maidens dancing, Young couples romancing. Christmas time is full of cheer, Every-one so happy, to be here. Merry Christmas. — Gillian Reid

La fresque, l'arbre et le mur

Vous me masquez la vue ! dit la fresque. J'étais là avant vous ! répondit l'arbre. La fresque répliqua : vous perdez vos feuilles, chic, j'aurai plus de lumière Et ajouta : moi, je les garde toute l'année, na ! Pouah ! s'exclama l'arbre : vous avez un teint gris à faire peur ! Et continua : moi, je perds peut-être mes feuilles mais pour celles qui restent, vous avez vu ces couleurs ? La fresque accusa le coup mais trouva la parade : avant que je sois là, personne ne vous remarquait ! C'est vrai, concéda l'arbre, les gens sont insensés : ils préfèrent le faux au vrai. A ce moment, le mur qui avait tout entendu (car il est bien connu que les murs ont des oreilles), entra dans la conversation : Arrêtez de vous chamailler ! moi, j'aime bien les fresques et j'aime bien aussi les arbres. J'étais nu, la fresque m'a habillé et toi, l'arbre, c'est parce que tu es beau que l'artiste t'a pris comme modèle pour réaliser cette fresque. Cessez donc d'insister sur vos différences et réjouissez-vous plutôt de vos ressemblances ! — Gérard Miro

The little orphan

When I was born I was given away, adopted some people did say but my new mum fell ill so I lived with her sister I wasn't old enough to miss her, Aunt Eva was so loving and kind but as I got older, Mum was on my mind. Suddenly Mum passed away, once more it was a sad day. Aunt Eva looked at me with tears in her eyes, she said ! I'm sorry to say, but once more you will have to go away. You have two aunt's who live near your dad, Live near my Dad, I was really glad. My aunt's were happy to have me, they made lovely cakes for tea. I had to go to a new school, and soon made lots of friends I'm Loving living near my Dad, and that's how my story ends. — Gillian Reid

The proud peacock

Once we saw a peacock with love on his mind he noticed a peahenlooking for food, that certainly put him in the mood. he opened his wingsand began to dance shimmering showing he wanted romance suddenly he engulfed her with his wings. romance over, he strutted away maybe she will have babies one day. — Gillian Reid

Days to remember

Times where hard in those days people were poor and set in their ways, children played in the street many with no shoes upon their feet. Older children had to work for only tuppence a day many became too weak, and sadly passed away. then war broke out, young men had to fight walking for miles, day and night. When the war was over sadly few came back. wives heartbroken, children a father did lack. new towns rebuilt lives starting anew good schools, hospitals, parks to view. The soldiers  and the many we lost, WE WILL REMEMBER THEM. — Gillian Reid

Le marteau-piqueur

Tacatacatac Qu'est-ce qui attaque ? Tacatacatan Quel est ce boucan ? Tacatacatin Qu'est-ce que ce potin ? Tacatacatam Quel est ce ramdam ? Un marteau-piqueur Sur le macadam. — Claude Clément

Dessin G. Miro