Angela Wybrow Poems

It doesn’t matter that your hair’s turned grey;
Meeting up with you still brightens my day.
You may have more lines upon your face,
But you still make my world a better place.
...

I saw in the freezer aisle;
Chocolate chicken curry:
I couldn’t help but smile.
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A door slams:
An echo fills the air –
This once busy sales floor
Is now completely bare.
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You were my funny, little feathered friend;
To your every need, I would always tend.
You’d stand under a running tap, trying to catch the drips.
In your brightly coloured birdbath, you loved to take a dip.
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I wish a were a chocolatier;
To folk I'd bring some age-old cheer.
I'd play around with all different flavours,
And decide on some for people to savour.
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He soars so high above the clouds;
So high above the bustling crowds.
He flies past vast galaxies of stars,
Above the houses, shops and cars.
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Once these men all mined for coal,
But now these men are on the dole.
With rent to pay and mouths to feed,
An anxious life these men now lead.
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My favourite vegetable, without a doubt,
Is the humble, but holy, Brussels sprout.
I cook them until they're really soft;
Around my house, their aroma wafts.
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Here are some meals, which I really love to eat,
When, at the dinner table, I take my seat.

Lasagne served with a slice of garlic bread,
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Today, I found myself in Camden Town;
I had time to spare, so I looked around.
It was a place that I had not visited before,
But it's a part of London, I'd love to visit more.
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