Writing by Derek Haines

The Fading of the Siren   In the mists of a new morning, Came a new and sudden dawning, To the Dreamer and the Siren as they played. Their game of metaphors, Was over now because, All fears and defences were allayed. Their trust had grown strong, And now they could belong, To each other, in a very special way. To love each other deeply, From afar, but yet so sweetly, And to live their lives from day, to precious day. The Dreamer and the Siren, Now simply Man and Woman, Can begin a brand new journey into time. The future all unknown, But with love now fully grown, They can

Forevermore His heart missed a beat, As he leapt to his feet, As his Siren appeared at the door. Their eyes met at once, And their hands reached to touch, This was the moment they had both yearned for. For months they had talked, Through their lives they had walked, They both knew each other so well. Now reality was calling, On two lovers this morning, They embraced, they belonged, they could tell. A long gaze then a kiss, And they both felt the bliss, Of love’s passion, filling their hearts. They stood and just gazed, Into eyes full ablaze, Holding tightly, never wanting to part. After waiting so long,

The Dreamer and the Siren The Dreamer was awoken, By words never spoken, Just the font of fate embellishing his screen. And his mind began to open, To the sense of new emotion, He relaxed and felt it touch him, pure and clean. A Siren in the corner, Aloof, but somehow warmer, Awoke this weary Dreamer with a song. A reposed and haunting place, Where she hides behind a face, It is now the place they feel that they belong. The Dreamer and the Siren, Fighting, loving, crying, Sharing hearts and minds together as if one. Retreat together warmly, After battles fought forlornly, ‘Cause they cannot ever part from being

Nineteen Roses  Nineteen roses we planted with care, To bloom in front of our dream. We worked as a team, to plant red, yellow and cream, And nurtured them through their first year. Daily we checked on their health and their needs, And sprayed and pruned and fed. Watered and weeded, and cut blooms as we needed, To fill our home with colour and scent. To both of us then, such a short time ago, They were our pride and our labour of joy. We would look out each morning, at the river performing, Its sparkling dance, behind our roses in row. Do you remember that time? When we smiled.