A-Mulford

In a garden, growing old, Loved by wind and sown by age, Past the gate, and then behold Leaves of green and songs of gold Branch of bay and stalk of sage. Near a mansion it does lay, Shaded by a willow's mane, And a shrub, with birds of gray Always gone with yesterday Perched atop the weathervane. On one day, there comes a girl, Her trodden trail never varies, The fringe upon her skirt does twirl And golden hair, with lustrous curl Her hand closed tight with what she carries. Upon a hill of dirt she walks, Sinking down like oozing sand, Among the young and tender stalks All the meanwhile, softly talks Of a nonexistent land.

{Untitled} It was though some massive hand simply reached down one day, plucked me right out of the cornfields and dropped me into the suburbs. With Mark, I might add. Everyone assured me that the urban life would suit me, but naturally I missed the inherent freedom of five hundred acres. And as though I didn't have enough adjusting to do, I also discovered that I was pregnant the day we moved into our new house. Six years later—three years after the divorce—the farm remained in my mind. I would imagine hearing the rooster's crow in the morning, and I would smell hay on the breeze instead of exhaust. Sometimes I dreamed I returned

"Miss, miss!" "Sit down Gerald.  Waving your hand and jumping around will not make me choose you quicker.  Everybody will get a turn.  Now, Natalie." "Yes miss." "Stand at the front then.  There.  Nice big voice." "whatididonmyholidays by Natalie Marsh.  What I did on my holidays we went to the beach it was nice and su....sunny.  I had ice cream and I went on a boat.  The boat was nice.  The sea splashed up and we all got wet.  Then there was a shark and it ated us and we all got dead TheEnd." "Very good Natalie.  Well done.  And you spoke nice and clearly too, but try to be a bit louder next time.  Now who's next?  No, Gerald, I will no