Author Ann Parker

When I was five, at Sandy Cove Bay,
I met mermaids and pirates on that first holiday.
I think I was six, when I played with a witch.
We’d fly to the moon on a stick for a broom.
And in my garden, where the long grass grew
Was where pixies lived and fairies flew.
I made them houses and acorn beds
And we’d hide from the trolls in the garden shed.
A pink unicorn would come for tea
And a prince once asked to marry me.
As the marks of my height, on the wall got high,
Child-like things had passed me by.
The more I grew, the less I saw.
Maybe I didn’t believe anymore.

But when we went back to Sandy Cove Bay,
My son saw a mermaid, I heard him say.
He dug in the sand for an old treasure chest
By reading a map that the pirates had left.
Then to our house, a wizard came.
Inventing spells was their favourite game.
With monsters to fight when he played with his friends
From under the stairs where they’d made their den.

Years later, my grandson stayed for the night.
There were ships to sail and pirates to fight.
And in the garden, by my old shed,
The fairies had gone, there were dragons instead.

But now that I’m old, I don’t feel sad.
I remember the magical times I had.
And I didn’t think I’d see any more
Of the mystical creatures like I had before.
Then just like that, I could suddenly see
A sparkling angel in front of me.
She said “Come with me,” and took my hand.
“I’ll take you home to a wonderland.
Where rainbows never need the rain,
And you’ll see all those ones that you loved, once again.”

Another winter I can tick off as lived.

Though I’ve developed a limp and an arthritic hip.

It will soon be my favourite time of the year,

The snowdrops are blooming so springtime is here.

When I see a bud on a bush or a tree

The resurgence of life does the same thing for me.

It’s not just the flora that’s such a delight

Mother nature gives us some wonderful sights.

The flight of a bird taking food to its young.

Baby animals cared for and guarded by mums.

Somehow the dark that gives way to more light

Gives me a feeling we will all be alright.

Yes, I’m over the hill near the valley of death

But I fear no evil, as my life has been blessed.

God willing, I’ve got many more years to come.

Though I think our minds, thoughts and souls are all one.

So the Heaven we get is the one we believe.

Therefore mine will be springtime with blossoms on trees.

No pearly gates, just a meadow and stile

And my mum and my dad with a wave and a smile.

I’d hung the last bauble and switched on the lights
And stood back to look – it didn’t look right.
The tinsel and garlands and bows were all there,
But something was missing, it looked very bare.
Where was my old star, for the top of the tree?
Not that it mattered, there was no one to see.
All nights were now silent, all mid-winters bleak.
No family to hug and no friends to speak.

Then I saw a flash out the side of my eye.
I got a bit scared, I’m not going to lie.
A bright ball of light just grew and grew –
A Christmas angel, somehow I knew.
“From this time on there’ll be no lonely days.
We heard your sadness each time you prayed.
The star that you seek is now hanging outside.
Like the very first Christmas, this will be a sign.”

In a blink, she took her place on my tree.
I worried that something might happen to me.
But I looked out the window and guess what I saw.
A long line of people walked up to my door.
Some carried presents or mince pies and things.
I almost expected to welcome three kings.
We pulled crackers and laughed and I felt young again.
The star and my angel had given me friends.

Now I look for a star or a sign I can see,
To help someone else that is lonely like me.
As I learnt something else on that magical night,
That in the word and His story, Christmas starts with Christ.

Once I thought nets were used to catch fish

And ham went with mustard to put in a dish.

But back in the 80s on one fateful day,

Terry met a CBer, who led him astray.

“Just one radio, that's all that I need.”

Of course like a fool, I really believed.

Within a year he had six in a stack

And our lovely bedroom had turned into a shack.

I saw piles of RadComs where once there were flowers.

And heard dotting and dashing till the early hours.

From handhelds to patch leads the list never stopped.

Not only that he kept every box!

There’s a line of aerials from the ground to the sky.

I’m sure the neighbours think he’s a spy.

To start with he talked to Bill down the road.

Now there’s calls from all over the globe.

But you’ll never guess what he’s gone and done.

He’s only gone and turned me into one.

In a moment of madness I made a concession,

I said I’d endeavour to be an M7.

So I’ll sign off for now and say 73.

Oh no, now I’m at it, what’s happened to me?

I know women can talk and I definitely can,

But not half as much as a radio ham.

By Ann Parker