Falling leaves.

Does a tree greave it leaves?

Wish to hold tightly to what was once a part of them,

No more than bones without out them one day,

but now freely given away?

Don’t you ever miss what you grew out of?

Dose a tree ever feel leaves fall a little to fast?

Looking back wasn’t childness a fine garment?

enercence and conference so rare

Why are the wrong things often so freely given away?

You can’t tell me you don’t wish to savour spring leaves.

Before the deauty of autumn,

Change scars the bravest.

God may of intended it, may be our biggest blessing

But truth is even trees grave their leaves

The game of war.

Game after game we do the same thing . Everyone has the same jod and we fight those across from us. I asked the king once if I could be a hores or a bishop but he said no………

I asked the king once if we could stop fighting war but he also said no ……….

I am sick of fighting the folks across from us when no-one knows the reason.My friend Gary agrees with me. If war is a game the kings wish to play then fine but there is no reason for the rest of us to be killed off every two seconds because of it.

Myself and Gary are going on strick until someone explains the nature of this war. I told the king …… who was behind me as boldly as I bare . “Oh there is no reason why we just fight because there is nothing eals to do!” The king said somewhat confused and laughing. “It is the life of a chess piece so you must learn to cope. ” he said turning away to instruct a castle.

I hate being a chess pieces.

Like scattered ashes firie leaves littered the space around and adove me. Funny how the death of something once apart of these trees is now turned into an artwork of water colour and ink.

Now the early morning sunlight that crept it’s way above the horizon line overtakes the lingering shadow of the previous night. It lights up dew drops that lay fragile on the grass that the trees now cast long shadows across.

The artwork of a morning gave way to the routine of another day followed by a kind of morning in reverse. Sun turns gold and sinks slowly behind the horizon line.

Although morning is like the unravelling and awakening of an artwork the best time is when all is still , quiet and dark outside.


My home is down the bottom of a quite dead end street. The first thing you see when you come to my house is not a house but a lush garden buzzing with unseen life and taller then tall hedges .We have a gravel drive way in need of weeding that leads to the side gate and pass the front door . Our small front porch is tiled and there is a stained glass window depicting a long legged Crane . Our house is made of the usual red brick . We are glad that you cant see the street from the door . When you come inside the two big dogs will bark but dont mind them, they arehttp:// just protecting their territory. We have ,polished ,lighty scratched wooden floors and pale grey walls with windows that reach from the floor to the ceiling and showcase the gardens like organic and forever changing artworks filtering sunlight into our home . In the loungeroom we have a telly that sit high on an old vintage sideboard. A soft cream rug on the floor to stretch out on and play one of the board games that spill out of the woven basket in the corner . Theres a deep tan leather couch that you could sink into and loose hours positioned under the window. A fire place joins the loungeroom to the dining area and recycling is collected in a pile under a calendar. Our kitchen is small and duck egg blue. On the chalkboard fridge there is collection of shopping lists , notes , to old photos and drawings . The kitchen is probably messy .The wooden dining table seats 8 at a pinch and is stained from when nail polish remover was spilt on it and there is playdough ,glue and sparkling glitter stuck in the deep cracks and forgotten adout frome days spent crafting. There are 4 bay windows overlooking the back garden.That let the sun spill in onto you if you sit here for breaky. We have a sideboard here that is home to two Goldfish , a salt lamp and a larger then large fruit bowl .Essentail oils sit inside an old timber box and a pot plant spills from the confines of its seramic pot. Heart shape leaves fall like a waterfall down the sides. Science books and history texts fill the remaining space . Down the hall the first door you will come to opens to a bedroom that is painted vibrant purple . There is a tall white bunk bed on one wall and a large mirror. A keyboard sits under the bed , dolls and lego scatted carelesly on the floor. A brightly coloured hoop tent hangs beside the window . The second door you will come a cross is a dated ,pink tiled bathroom with towels hung up on hooks and butterfly stickers stuck to the mirror . Theres sunscreen and toothpaste on the sink .A corner shower and deep bathtub . The nexted boor is my room, my awayses. I have a tall wooden loft bed with a besk underneath that is home to all of my beloved art supplies. In the corner is a over full bookshelf , a papper elephant mobile and photos, postcards and cutouts frome magazines turn cordord boors into an artwork. There is paint on the carpet just infront of the window that over looks a Gardiner hedge. The nexted and last room in this hallway is a bedroom/gests room. This room is painted a light egg shell blue and has an old, white,nicely made mettle bed sitting up aainst the window. In the corner hanges a sea-shell mobile infront of the braws and fishtank. Underneth the modil sits a fabulous guitar. On the old cane chair there is swimmers and a hat. On cordord boors photographs from magazines bisplay a love of surfing. The master bedroom has a squeaky old meatle queen bed. On one side of the bed a woven basket holds books containing the ideas , experiences and realizations of countless Christian authors. Above a very small bedside tadle their is artwork from three generations back and a butterfly chart. In this room the boorway to the shoe-box size,blue tiled onsweet is across from the bed. The walk in worded is cluted with old things from grandparents, on one side bright bresses and scarves hang. Across is a cearful selection of gens, flanes and work uniforms. This is the inside of our beautiful and imperfect house. Outside is a wounderland of garden beds. We have a deck that windes its way around , a pool with beep greenish blue water and trampoline that sits quietly behind the citrus trees that are of great abundance bue in the cool months. An old shed and chook coop blend into the surroundings hanks to passion fruit vines and the towering silver truked gum tree. This is our home. Just like us it is full of imperfection, just like us it is completely covered with scratches, stains and sticky finger prints. We love our home because of these thing’s .