Confessions of an Author

Love by Anne E. Thompson No more, Do I carve big hearts in the sand. Neither do I scribble our names entwined. Nor do I keep your photo’ under my pillow. Nor chant your name like a rhyme in my head. I do not whisper about you with friends, Nor blush when I hear your voice. I do not loiter in the places you may pass, Nor practice smiles for you before a mirror. Yet still, My heart thrills at the sound of your laughter, And I watch the clock when your arrival is near. I am content when I manage to please you, And I watch your face when you drive or read. I learn every wrinkle that creases your smile, And I bend to your moods as they change. For though time may mellow and age us, My love for you remains The same. xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx If you enjoyed this, why not sign up to follow my blog? Poems, articles and a life full of family, animals and frequent disaster! anneethompson.com xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

End End by Anne E Thompson “I wonder what she thought of that, Was so funny when he said no! I must remember to contact Jim, This traffic light is slow. I think we need more milk and eggs, I’ll check when we get home. I could do with a cup of coffee now, I hope that Mum will phone. I’m not sure if…..” Slash of metal, scream of brake, Glint of sunlight, briefest quake. Nothing. See also : https://anneethompson.com/short-stories/other-stories/death/

Remembrance Day Poem – As Life Goes On Now, and Then IKEA homeware packed in boxes, Heaps of stuff litter the hall, then squashed into the back of the car. Last hugs, cheery goodbyes, the drive to uni. Snippets of home, spread around the strange smelling room, The lanky excited-scared almost man says goodbye, And the mother remembers. She remembers the feel of the bowling ball weight on her hip when she carried him, The feel of his tiny hands on her cheeks when he offered snotty kisses, The snuffle of breath as he slept against her shoulder, She remembers the child as she looks at the man. As she wishes him well, holds back tears until she has driven away. Billycans and clothes stuffed in kit-bag, A train to London packed tight, then bustle hurry find the right squad. Last hugs, tearful goodbyes, a band plays on. Heaving the bag, look around for friends joining too, The lanky excited-scared almost man says goodbye, And the mother remembers. She remembers the feel ...

Family Battles by Anne E Thompson I felt your rage today, Your teenage venom, As you slammed your fist, Eyes spitting hatred Because you had lost a book. And I could have won, I could have cried. And you would back away In surprised confusion. But then you would have No safe haven In which to dump your anger. You argued with me today. With vicious words and Cruel tongue to justify A selfish action. And I could have won, I could have mocked And wounded your pride, Belittled confidence. But then you would have No self esteem, My sneer would damage you. You slammed a door today And refused to help When you broke a vase, Not caring at all, Absorbed only in your world. And I could have won. I could have sulked, Withdrawn lifts and treats, Not listened anymore. But then you would have No assurance That I always forgive. So I let you win, And correct softly When you abuse rights. For one day you will be grown, Calm and mature, Confident, secure And you will look at life with love. ...

Granny’s House  by Anne E Thompson The child lies, Hot under heavy eiderdown, With frozen face protruding, And listens: Chink of china tea-pot, mew of cat, Stamp of heavy boots, on kitchen mat. Mumbling quiet voices, feed the dog, Poker stirs the fire, then adds a log. Working men arrive to shop next door, Metal bucket dragged, across stone floor. Clanking toilet chain from outside loo, House martins fussing, as new chicks flew. Kettle whistle dies, then clink of latch, Bang of larder door, harsh strike of match. Footstep creaking upstairs, breeze stirs net, Rap on bedroom door, “Are you up yet?” Thank you for reading. You can follow my blog at anneethompson.com ***

Love 1 by Anne E Thompson No more, Do I carve big hearts in the sand. Neither do I scribble our names entwined. Nor do I keep your photo’ under my pillow. Nor chant your name like a rhyme in my head. I do not whisper about you with friends, Nor blush when I hear your voice. I do not loiter in the places you may pass, Nor practice smiles for you before a mirror. Yet still, My heart thrills at the sound of your laughter, And I watch the clock when your arrival is near. I am content when I manage to please you, And I watch your face when you drive or read. I learn every wrinkle that creases your smile, And I bend to your moods as they change. For though time may mellow and age us, My love for you remains The same. ••• You can follow my blog at: anneethompson.com