The Friends of Our Youth

The Friends of our youth are important to us. On an overcast day in May I returned with my mother to Croydon; Old buildings made new And others just torn down. Cosmopolitan Croydon where possibly eighty languages or more are spoken. Young people laughing and moving, The older ones watching and contemplating. Today we travelling… Continue reading The Friends of Our Youth



The old man sat in his worn, fraying chair, looking out at the rain. His life felt like the rain, a continual pouring of water that kept running away and never settling. His face was lined with a map of his life and there was a kind of beauty and power in that. There were… Continue reading Beauty