At the end of this month, it will mark the 8th anniversary of my father’s passing. You are always remembered dad, and you will always be in my heart.
Remembering Dad
is not always tears.
Sometimes, it is laughter
that surprises you,
rising up from an old memory
like it never left.
It is a lovely and heartfelt poem that evokes the enduring strength of a love that once was. đŞ
If you wake and find that I am not there anymore,
do not let your heart be startled by the quiet.
Do not search the corners of the room
for the echo of my breathing
or the warmth pressed into the pillow beside you.
I have not vanished
I have simply slipped
into the soft places we once filled together.
I will be the hush before the morning birds begin,
the pale gold stretching across your curtains,
the whisper of kettle steam rising like a prayer.
If you wake and find that I am not there anymore,
place your hand upon your chest.
Feel that steady rhythm?
I have left a piece of my love
beating there with you.
Look outside.
If the wind brushes your cheek, that is me
still gentle.
If the sun lingers longer on your face, that is me
still devoted.
And if your eyes grow heavy with missing,
remember this:
love does not end at doorways,
nor does it dissolve into absence.
It changes shape.
So wake, my dear, without fear.
Though I may not stand beside you in flesh,
I am woven through your mornings,
threaded through your memories,
and resting quietly
in every breath you take.
It was a pleasure to see the band Blue on the TV programme “Piano Rooms” recently. They have consistently been one of my favourite bands. They performed a selection of excellent songs during the programme.
I recall taking my daughter, Catherine, to see them perform live in concert a few years ago at the Peterborough Embankment. They were truly outstanding.
Here are a couple of my favourite “Blue” songs.
Blue consists of four band members:
Lee
Anthony
Duncan
Simon
They are fabulous singers.
This afternoon, I went for a walk at the Central Park. I captured these lovely little flowers, which i believe are white crocus.
This is beautiful.
Spring arrives on whispered light,
gold poured gently through the sky,
touching earth with tender hands
and teaching sleeping roots to try.
Blossoms loosen from their dreams,
petals breathing blush and cream,
while daffodils in yellow gowns
step brightly from the winterâs seam.
The air is sweet with second chances,
cool but warm with promise tooâ
as if the world has turned a page
and written hope in shades of dew.
Birdsong stitches dawn today,
a silver thread of joy set free;
and every breeze that lifts your hair
says, “Begin again with me.”
Spring is not just bloom and sunâ
itâs courage wrapped in fragile things,
a quiet heart that dares to beat
after frost has clipped its wings.
So open wide your waiting soul,
let light fall softly where it mayâ
for even the longest winter yields
to springtimeâs gentle, brave ballet.
Oh, daffodils, so small, so strong,
You sing the earthâs returning song,
And in your gold, we see once more
That hope is what the spring is for.
The beautiful daffodils this morning, near to where I live. They were dancing in the wind.
I am #Golden đ
Why are individuals often judged based on their race? One may be born in England, speak only English, and identify as Christianâessentially identical to anyone else who describes themselves as white Britishâapart from the colour of their skin. Why must people be categorised or segregated in such a manner? This can only lead to hostility. Why can’t we all behave as mature adults and learn to appreciate someone for their kindness, regardless of their colour, gender, religion, or background? One of the reasons we wore a school uniform was to promote a sense of equality, ensuring everyone dressed similarly. If someone does not wish to forge friendships with individuals of a different colour, that is a personal choice, but I am tired of the division into ‘us’ and ‘them’. Some people simply seek to be accepted and treated fairly. I love quality. I love nice people.
If you did not want everyone living in the same country, why allow people to move here in the first place?
If you owned a piece of land and someone unwanted, tried to claim it, would you just let them go ahead and take your piece of land? If you allow people to come into the country, you have no room to complain!
F x
I was reflecting on some of the joyful moments I have shared with my daughters. The photographs of their smiling faces bring back fond memoriesâChristmas 2025 was particularly memorable because Lauren came home for Christmas. It felt warm, just like the old times. đ #TreasuredMemories
For memories are small lanterns,
glowing in the corridors of time,
whispering,
You were there.
It mattered.
Hold on to your memories gentlyânot to live in the past, but to warm your hands when the present feels cold.
So beautiful. My daughter arrived back in Australia this morning, #ValentinesDay, after she visited us here in the UK. Her boyfriend looked so pleased to see her as he greeted her with flowers. That is just so beautiful.
I â¤ď¸ you Lauren. I’m so glad you arrived home safely. Xx
When you are feeling happy and relaxed, you have that look. đ
Lol, me wearing my cute “Valentine Bunny Ears” a few years ago.
The 14th February is fast approaching. I have not made any definite plans for this Valentines Day. However, I would admit to being a hopeless romantic.
I love romance. Here are a few tantalising and romantic poems to get you in the mood for Valentines Day:
________________________
If love had a sound,
it would be your name
spoken softly
at the end of a long day.
If love had a place,
it would be the space
between your heartbeat and mine,
where the world finally rests.
______________________
I donât want you politely.
I want you like fire wants air,
like night wants the moon
close enough to touch.
I want the ache,
the pull,
the way my name sounds different
when itâs on your lips.
________________________
Come closer.
Close enough
that my thoughts blur,
that desire speaks first
and reason never gets a turn.
Kiss me
like this moment
is the only one
that matters.
_______________________
Stand that close again
and tell me you donât feel itâ
the heat rising,
the way restraint trembles
between us.
I want your mouth
hovering just long enough
to be cruel,
just close enough
to drive me wild.
_______________________
I want you slowlyâ
the kind of slow
that hurts in the best way.
Eyes lingering,
breaths colliding,
every second stretching
until wanting you
is louder than thought.
This is the fire
that doesnât rush.
It consumes.
______________________
Take your time with me.
I want the unhurried version of youâ
the one who knows
desire ripens best
when touched slowly.
Let minutes melt,
let anticipation do the work,
until wanting becomes
a soft, exquisite ache.
_______________________
Your voice finds me
in the quiet places,
low, careful,
as if my heart
might bruise if spoken to loudly.
I hold every word
like itâs meant
only for me.
đ
SmileyRose Ramblings by
Frances Rose Agnes Napper (She/Her) 