Time has ticked so fast through my fingers i have not lingered long enough to watch an old egg timer dribble three minutes worth of salt never mind to sit here before this machine and scribble...I am hanging on in fast lane by a shirts tail whilst the concrete sky above boxes my ears with raindrops bigger than Winnie-The-Poo's honey pot...Winter has drawn down the thread in my wrinkled stockings leaving me breathless for this Winter to fold once more back into the leaf mould...Today...i thought, as my eyes drip-fed in so many washed out daffodils along the highways their yellow heads kissing the soil with great gasps of WTF.. why did we rise so early.....i feel as if i have been looking at them for centuries instead of simply weeks they are not my favourite flower...i think of them designed on a Friday by a table full of drunken gardners on the back of a cigerette packet in some snug room of an old pub..small thin stems big bloody yellow head thumps into the mind even a on a sunny day as they trill were the yellow boys biff bash bosh....Yet i have planted some in my garden...i sigh in thoughtful madness....
Besides all that...i am myself well..the crunched up hump of Winter must now have passed...If there is such a thing as spring in 2016..it must be hanging on a some cottage gate swinging in the breeze waiting far to long for the right moment to erupt...into warmth and clotted cream, as long as i can fix such visions in some order and find some dark warm corner to unleash my suspender belt and sigh rock on you old fart as my stockings  drift away...into the time warp captured by the ticking clock which has once more beaten me then hey ho which reminds me to give old Winnie-The-Poo a hug...So Goeth...