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I sat in a pub just before Christmas and was struck by the humour of one of the girls in a large group. She had everyone laughing, but when she went to the bar to buy a round of drinks, I couldn't help but notice the sadness in her eyes as she looked at herself in the mirror which was behind the bar.


Look at the fool with her funny clothes
She always makes you laugh
She’s the clown of the group
Wherever she goes
She’s welcome to walk my path

I’ve seen clothes before
On those who bring smiles
The cloth’s just a skin
To cover the trials
Of a heart that was blazing
With colours and courage
Cast aside and not needed
On the latest voyage

She was yesterday’s dream
And flew high with such hope
But her heart which took flight
Qualifies her to smoke
With loathing and hate and unbridled spite

But she hides it so well
‘Neath the clothes that cause grins
She’s learned to make distance
From pain as it spins
Around her poor heart
Which reads like a book
To any who trouble
To listen and look

So with consummate ease
She fools all her friends
While pretending to act
Just like all her friends.



I sincerely hope she had a peaceful and happy Christmas.

Dear Byron,

I love the way you watch those you don't know and the way your eyes follow beyond when others' would have stopped and the way your heart sees what really matters. I love your depth and your caring.

I continue to resist addressing you "Dear Lord Byron."

~Lizzytysh

Lizzytysh, you are most kind. I cannot claim any title, but I do walk with a limp. I try to be as well balanced as possible, and hence I have a chip on each shoulder. Best regards, Byron.