Happy New Year

New Year new me? But you're the same you don't you see?

Resolutions all around, but for a Saturday drink you'll still be bound. 

Three inches off your waist, but how good does a cream bun taste? 

A to do list complete, but with reality you can't seem to compete. 

You'll be sitting on the couch, when in the gym you should be saying "ouch" 

A New Years kiss you say? I'll kiss my glass and be on my way! 

A year ahead is hard to plan, planning ahead is too great for man.

So happy New Year to all, may it be full of surprises great and small.

The Old Cobbler And The Christmas Wish.

Winter was blowing in as the old cobbler sat by the fire on Christmas Eve in her shop, mending a pair of leather boots. She hummed a Christmas carol while she mended. Her shoes looked at one another with wide eyes as she hummed. A wind howled outside and it began to snow heavily. 'Deary me,' she said. 'It looks like a blizzard outside.' She threw some more wood on the fire and pulled her shawl up around her shoulders. I hope it stops before I go home. I only asked for one gift from Santa this year and if I cannot get home, it won’t be possible. She had a tree up in the shop. It was beautifully decorated with red bows and green baubles with some glass baubles and candles lighting inside of them. There was red berried holly and garland along the shelves and the wooden post supporting the ceiling. The shop was a glow with lighting candles all around, the light from the fire and the beautifully lit tree. The old cobbler had made herself some mulled wine and the shop smelled of fruit and spice. When it was time to go home, the blizzard still hadn't eased off. Snow was now half way up the front door of the shop. 'How am I going to get home? I shall have to spend the night here.’ The storm raged on and on and on. ‘Never in all my life have I seen this much snow. I’m stuck here and there is barely enough firewood for the rest of the night. I shall freeze.’ Her shoes looked at each other with sorrow in their eyes this time. She made a bed beside the fire and settled down for the night. She sang Carols to herself and drank the last of the mulled wine. Although the fire was burning away and she would be cold, she didn't mind. She was glad to have the shop. After a while she awoke to hear a noise outside. She threw her shawl around her and went out to investigate. She gasped when she found the way had been cleared and she could leave. There was a path which was lit completely by lanterns and it brought her straight to her house. ‘This is quite extraordinary, who would do this?’ When she got to her house, her front door was open. Smoke was rising from the chimney. She cautiously approached and went inside, fearing there might be robbers. When she peered around the corner, she couldn't believe her eyes. It was The Boogieman, the witch, the troll and the vampire she had mended shoes for. The Vampire had brought his family. She had never had so many visitors at once. ‘How did you know I was trapped at the shop?’ she asked graciously. “Trapped at the shop? We have only just arrived here with presents for you.” replied the witch. She pointed to the tree and there, beneath, sat gifts. “Oh thank you so much. Please, you really must stay the night and have dinner with me tomorrow.” They all agreed and she made them all beds for the night. As they all slept, she crept quietly into the tree early the next morning to unwrap her gifts. A dress from the witch, some expensive leather from the vampire to make herself some nice shoes, some homemade lanterns from the troll and a promise of dance lessons from the Boogieman. “How lovely, and oh what’s this?” There was also a letter. She opened it and it read “I received your letter about your only wish this year was to not be lonely on Christmas day. ‘Christmas is like an unlit path for me, dark and lonesome. Please help to light my lonely path.’ Merry Christmas, Santa.” She looked up and smiled with a tear in her eye. “Thank you.” She whispered.

The Christmas Mouse

What was that noise below the floor boards? Rattling and scratching by the hoards. It's kept me up at night, yes wide awake. I had to find out what was making it for goodness sake. Then I heard nibbling, nawing at the wood. "If it's a mouse, he's surely up to no good." I decided one night, enough was enough. And got out of bed with a huff and a puff. I crept up to the noise and listened in the dark, for the mouse to move, so I could grab him like a shark. He jumped out of a box of my wrapping supplies. With some ribbon and bows and then he locked eyes, with the tape he dropped, on an earlier steal. He grabbed it fast and went down the hole with the reel. "What peculiar things to steal from my box,

I'll get him tomorrow. I will pounce like a fox." So the next night I waited, and noticed the floorboard could detach, I rattled and pulled and up it came like a latch. Beneath it I was met, with a sight that made me gasp, a little mouse sat on a chair with the tape in his grasp. Wrapping tiny gifts all through the dark night. He never saw me, and he wrapped until light. I replaced the floor board and left him alone. For a mouse who wraps presents, I couldn't possibly moan.

 

Halloween

Monsters are everywhere, they lurk in despair.

 Witches on brooms and goblins in your rooms.

 Vampires travel skies while zombies pick up their eyes. 

The night is coming when these creatures come running. 

Out of the dept, where for a year they have slept. 

This night of screams, that haunt children's dreams. 

You better watch out, don't look outside, be seen about. 

You might get taken, and the witches will get bakin' 

For the terrible night will give you some fright. 

The night of terror, yes, make not one error.

 Keep your wits about you, you don't know what will shout "boo!" 

On this night of scares, that will rustle your hairs. 

On this night of ghouls, don't be one of those fools. 

On this night of fear, for one night of the year. 

Yes the night I mean, is your HALLOWEEN. 

Benjamin The Mouse

Benjamin the mouse had lost his house. 

Feeling cold and sad, and really quite bad. A crow called Susie landed on a mouse and said "excuse me" "Do you mind crow? Can't you watch where you go?" "Oh pardon me little fellow, I'll not stop to say hello" "Forgive me for snapping, I'm tired from lack of napping" "My house fell down and I now I'm wandering in my night gown." "I'm sorry about your house, I did not know I was landing on a mouse." So away mid flight, she stopped with an idea so bright.

 "A new house he said? I think I know just the cosy bed." Well his eyes came alive, as he saw this old bee hive.

Inside was a nest, where an old bird did rest. And up and went on it's way, to make room for this mouse one day. 

"I love it, it's so me. It's all I wanted my home to be. How can I ever repay, you must come for tea one day."

"Tea in a nest is perfect you see? Tea in a nest is home to a bird like me."

The Butterfly By The Stream

I lay on the grass before the soft flowing stream. After some time asleep, I awakened from a dream. 

Rubbing my eyes, I looked around at this day. The sun was shining warmly, as the farmers made hay. Then above the stream I glanced as something peculiar I could see. It was something I could not believe, could this really be? There, hovered a butterfly with locks of golden hair. It flew around and for my presence it didn't care. My mouth was wide open as I watched this beautiful thing, then as it flew across stream, a song it began to sing. "A butterfly am I with long locks of  golden hair, I come here for some peace, so people do not stare. I fly above the water and see my strange reflection,

as I wondered what it was that gained so much affection." She took off again, and said, "I do not believe we have met before, but perhaps someday when we're old and grey, you'll remember me no more."

The Fallen Star

I watched the stars compliment the moon like a diamond necklace. A million diamonds could not distract from the beauty of the moons face.  Lit up by the sun at night, never really setting just hiding in another land. Shining so bright, I realised the night was no longer bland. It was so quiet and nothing could be heard but the clock ticking away the night. The smallest noise could have startled anyone and given them a fright. I saw a shooting star. It appeared this necklace might be a fake now. For a diamond lost is no good to the moon, it's fallen down to a sleeping cow. "What is this? Called the waking cow. A diamond for me? Why thank you sky. I'll never leave this diamond, and cherish it until the day I die." Many years later an old cow sat by a fallen star, the fire burned away. "You are my diamond my cherished gift. I have loved your time each waking day."  The sun set on this dying cow, she took her last breath as the stars turned bright and the moon rose high. Then as her soul slipped away, a new diamond appeared across the bright night sky.   

The Snail Shell

An old book on my shelf, I needed to recycle, but I could not find the heart to continue this book's cycle. So I went for a long walk, to think about my choice, recycle something I loved, not hear my inner voice. A snail for many years, had slowly made it's way. But in this world forever, no creature may stay. The snail passed on and left behind it's shell. Left there to rot until into it, a small seed fell. I was walking some time, and sat for a rest. Something caught my eye, something I could not best.  It was a small snail shell, lying on the ground. I picked it up and couldn't believe what I'd found. A small green plant was growing from within, This shell now had life, a new chapter will begin. Nature had recycled something all by itself, In a far more beautiful way than that book sat on my shelf.

The Hidden Tulips

Every Spring behind a tall grand hedge, 

In a little corner close to a small ledge, 

grew Tulips of plenty, flush with red,

Never yet seen, in this hidden flower bed. 

People passed by and never got to admire,

this lovely bunch of flowers, as red as fire. 

The gentle spring breeze breaches their cover,

above their soft petals, the bees did hover.

An odd rabbit or hedgehog, came for a look,

and for a keepsake, a petal each they took. 

Pretty soon only one tulip remained standing,

this little bunch of flowers no longer expanding. 

All alone behind the hedge, it's secret intact.

It's presence unknown that was a fact. 

A snail each day came and sat by this flower.

It sat there all day, sat there hour after hour.

This tulip brought a light into this snail's day.

It couldn't understand why, it really couldn't say. 

The snail came everyday, until the last petal fell,

Then it understood why and it began to tell.

"This secret bunch of flowers made me feel glad,

they made me happy, when I felt quite sad

Now I know that in life, when all I can feel is pity,

there's a time of year when secret flowers grow so pretty."

Sow A Happiness Seed

Being yourself is quite difficult to achieve, as to be yourself, you've got to believe,

that you're someone special, one of a kind. Someone with talents and a beautiful mind. You should love yourself because you like being you. Not like yourself because someone else likes you too. We all feel insecure and our confidence we doubt. You just need to have faith in your will to step out. We think we need to look like that magazine model to feel good. But look like that model is not always how we should. That model looks at you and envys your hair. While you look at their height and they wonder why you stare. Just wear a smile and be happy in your own skin.  It's the best way to feel good and throw doubt in the bin. Don't dwell on what you cannot change, be the best you can be. Then you'll look in the mirror and a happy person see. So make someone smile today, do a good deed. Go about your busy day and sow a happiness seed. 

The 700 Year Old Tree

A very old tree, stands tall another day long. A man walks by as another bird sings it's song. 700 years ago this tree was just a seed. Ready to grow, in a world of love, hate and greed. Sorrow has unfolded as this tree grew. Joy and heartache but amazing things too. It's seen empires rise and fall where now skyscrapers stand tall. Bustling towns once destined to expand, is now miles of empty baron land. It's stood by and watched people cry, as metal birds dropped fire from the sky. It's seen ignorance fight and win many a battle. On grounds that after all this time, are now just fields of cattle. This grand old tree sits powerless, to interfere with our day. Oh how the world might be, if it could have taken part in some way. Watching the years go by and people, give birth, live and die. Buildings going up and down and once mighty rivers now dry. Animals that passed by, and sheltered from the rain. Their species is no more, perhaps, their existence was in vain? This tree recalls a noble man, five hundred years gone by. Not famous, nor known, so in a book, his name we'll not spy. A tree cannot talk, yet, so much of the world it has known. Without a mouth to tell it's tales, all that knowledge will remain it's own.

The Cobbler and The Vampire.

It was a quiet night at home. The cobbler had her feet up on a stool beside the fire warming them after a long day in the shop. She was reading a book. Her shoes were hopping around behind her. She could hear them often but always thought she had some mice. She still didn’t know her shoes could hop around. ‘I must stick the kettle on for a cup of tea.’ She said. The shoes stopped dead on the floor and she walked into the kitchen to boil the kettle. While she was in there, she heard her sheep baa-ing loudly outside, as though something was disturbing them. She threw on her shawl and went to the front door. As she opened it, the sheep shot in past her. ‘Ben and Daisy. What on earth is the matter with you two?’ She shut the door and decided to let them stay in. They settled by the fire before a knock came on the door. She looked at the clock and said ‘Goodness gracious, it’s 10 at night, who could want something at this hour?’ she got up and opened the door. ‘Ahhh’ she screamed as her sheep ran to her bedroom followed by her shoes. It was a vampire! He wore a long black and red cloak over a stylish black suit, and had black hair in a quiff. His teeth were sharp and he was quite pale. The cobbler fainted with fright and when she awakened, she was sitting by her fire with a damp cloth on her forehead and the vampire stoking up the fire. He turned around and said ‘Oh thank goodness you’re awake. Please, don't be afraid I didn’t mean to frighten you and I mean you no harm.’ The cobbler was lost for words and the vampire began talking again. ‘Are you the cobbler woman?’ he asked. ‘Yes, that is me.’ She replied. ‘I know it’s late and I hate to intrude but I wondered if you might fix my shoes, I have to go to my wife’s deathday party and she is insistent I’m not attending unless I have respectable shoes.' ‘Deathday party?’ asked the cobbler. ‘Yes, it’s the anniversary of the day when a vampire becomes a vampire. Although, we don’t drink blood. We drink blackcurrant and cranberry juice.’ ‘So you, don’t kill people?’ replied the cobbler. The vampire threw his head back and laughed. ‘Goodness, no. We are vegetarians. We were spotted once at a party with blackcurrant and cranberry juice on our lips and someone told everyone it was blood. Of course, it doesn’t help that we have sharp teeth.’ He said. ‘But, I’m not quite sure why we have them to be honest.’  ‘Oh what a relief.’ Said the cobbler. She made some tea and offered the vampire some blackcurrant jam to eat while she mended his shoes. The sheep and her shoes were nowhere to be found. She mended as he told stories of vampires oaths to help the communities and told her how they are the ones who chase away foxes from the chickens on farms and wake birds up earlier on summers mornings so everyone can awaken earlier and enjoy the full length of the day whilst they sleep. The cobbler grew fascinated by this vampire as she stitched and mended and polished these beautifully pointy black shoes. ‘Now, sir. I hope these are ok for you?’ she said handing him the shoes. ‘Oh they are marvellous, just wait until my wife sees them. Thank you so much!’ She turned for a moment to put down her needle and when she turned back, he had vanished. On the table was a note which read ‘Thank you dear cobbler for a vampire am I, with shoes so nice, mended by you who made a choice, to look past my image and see me inside,  and from you in future, I will never hide.’

The Cobbler and the Witch

One dark day, the old cobbler was bringing her pet sheep for a walk in the forest. She often brought them here as they loved the greens of the forest floor and she loved the peacefulness of the calm and quiet forest. The birds sang and wildlife was plenty. She walked along after her sheep who went on ahead, exploring. ‘I think I’ll take a little rest.’ She sat by a tall grand tree and took out a flask of tea. ‘Oh lovely.’ She said after taking a sip. She looked around for a moment as the sky grew darker. ‘Oh dear, I fear it’s about to rain.’ She opened her bag and searched for her umbrella. Luckily she’d brought it. Suddenly, the sheep came running by as though they were running from something. ‘What’s the matter Ben and Daisy? It’s only a bit of rain.’ She shouted after them. As she turned back around, she saw something moving in the distance. It was dark and seemed to be floating along. It let out the most sinister laugh. ‘Ha ha ha ha.’ The old cobbler stood up to run away but as she did so, she tripped over some roots. ‘You there,’ came a voice. The cobbler sat up and turned to face the voice. She gasped, when she saw a witch on a broom. ‘OHHH’ she cried. ‘Hush now, I’m not a bad witch. I just need my shoes to be mended.’ She said. The cobbler looked at her shoes and sure enough, you could see the witch’s toes. She didn’t look much like a witch apart from the wrinkly old pointy hat. She had nice straight hair, and her dress was black with a laced corset and frills on the skirt. Her shoes were almost too worn to be part of her outfit. As she didn't feel threatened by her, she decided to help her out. 'Very well, I'll mend them. Come back to my shop now.’ Said the cobbler. ‘Great,’ said the witch. ‘Hop on.’ The old cobbler sat up on the broom and they swept away. They flew over her house where she could see that her sheep were now safe and sound in the garden eating grass happily. The scenery was beautiful from up on the broom, houses looked small and animals were like dots. The air was fresh and the cobbler smiled. When they got to the town, they swooped across chimneys and rooftops. The cobbler held on tight to the witch. There wasn't anyone outside as it was still drizzling slightly. The sound of water draining from the roof tiles into the gutters could be heard. When they got closer to the shop, the witch pulled on the end of the broom and they slowed before descending gently to the front door of the mending shop, and went inside. The witch sat by the fire and told the cobbler stories as she mended her shoes. ‘I live in the forest because people think I’m an evil witch, but you see, I cannot even do magic. My broom is the only magic I have. I live in a small wooden house and I don’t have much. But I can make dresses. I made this.’ She tugged at the dress she was wearing. ‘It’s quite beautiful,’ the cobbler said, looking over her glasses as she sewed. The clock struck 6 o'clock as she finished the second shoe. ‘Oh, they are just fabulous!’ exclaimed the witch. How can I ever repay you?' 'No payment needed my dear. The joy on your face is payment enough,' she replied, smiling warmly. The next morning, the cobbler got up, had some breakfast and went outside to set off for work. As she closed the door behind her, she saw a package on the ground. Opening it, she found the most stunning blue dress, with shoe patterns all over it. ‘Oh how gorgeous.’ She said. She went back inside and tried it on. ‘Oh it’s a perfect fit.’ As she again went outside in her new dress to set off for work, she noticed that a note had fallen from the package when she opened it. It read ‘Thank you for mending my shoes, I can now walk around more. Last night, I walked into town instead of flying, and not one person knew I was a witch. I hope you like this dress, it’s only a small thanks. Cheerio and best witches.’

The Cobbler and the Boogieman.

One day, the old cobbler was alone in her mending shop. Her shop was old and wooden. Wooden beams stretched across the ceiling and old wooden shelves held up all her extra materials for mending and sewing. She had an old cash register on an old wooden worktop. In the corner was a warm open fire where she’d sit on a stool, remove her shoes and sew and mend people’s shoes. The shoes were glad of the freedom and hopped all around the back of the shop unknown to the cobbler. This day, the clouds thickened outside. A wind howled and suddenly the door opened ferociously. She jumped with fright and closed it again. Thunder and lightning soon followed. The shoes peeked out from the back of the shop, terrified. ‘Oh dear, it’s awfully dark in here with this dark day. Now, where did I put that box of candles?’ said the old cobbler to herself groaning, as she stood up from her chair. ‘My bones are getting stiff in my old age.’ She had a route around under the worktop and found them. She lit many and the shop was bright again. ‘Oh isn’t this cosy?’ she thought to herself. She sat back down and no sooner had she done so when a gust of wind again blew the door open. A few candles blew out and she could make out a dark figure standing in the doorway. ‘Come in and shut the door will you?’ she said as she gestured with her hand. The figure didn’t move. Then a flash of lightning lit up the whole shop and the old woman screamed as the figure in the doorway was lit up. It was the Boogieman! The old cobbler ran to the back of the shop. The Boogieman was dark and had long nails, shaggy hair and a dark hairy body. He was rarely seen and only spoken of in myths. ‘Hello, are you the cobbler woman?’ asked the Boogieman. ‘YES’ replied a voice from behind the worktop. ‘I would like you to repair my shoes please.’ He said. ‘Shoes?’ thought the cobbler. She stood up and looked at the man again. He lit the candles that had blown out. ‘I’m sorry about that.’ He said. I didn’t mean to linger in the doorway. I’m not used to a friendly reception so I didn’t want to startle you.’ ‘That’s alright’ said the cobbler a little more at ease with him now. ‘You see, I need shoes to dance. That’s why I’m called the Boogieman. My shoes have worn and I can no longer dance.’ He said. ‘I’ve hidden for many years just dancing alone as people look at me and think I’m scary and spread rumors that I live under beds or in wardrobes.’ ‘Oh that is sad, I am terribly sorry for running and hiding on you, I too had heard the rumors and it was wrong of me to judge. Please, let me mend your shoes and you can dance for me then.’ The Boogieman’s eyes lit up. ‘Oh thank you!’he exclaimed. She sat by the fire and began mending with some leather and new soles. The Boogieman lit the rest of the candles. Soon the shoes were mended. ‘Here you go, good as new.’ The Boogieman put the shoes on and began to tap dance. Oh he was exceptionally good at dancing. Her own shoes tapped along quietly ‘I am so glad you’ve stopped by.’ said the cobbler. ‘You mustn’t be a stranger. You are most welcome to come and dance again.’ ‘Oh you are kind.’ He nodded and bowed and went on his way. Then as the weather brightened, the woman decided it was time to go home. 

The Cobbler and the Troll.

The Old Cobbler and the Troll

One day the old cobbler woman was on her way to her mending shop in town. She didn’t have a car and didn’t really feel the need for one, as she preferred to walk. She came to the bridge she once lived under when she was poor and remembered the happy times she’d spent beneath with a warm cosy fire on stormy nights beside her two pet sheep. She walked over it and was beginning to make her way past when she heard a grumble. She walked back, looked over and could see nothing. So shrugged her shoulders and went on. Suddenly there was a roar behind her. She jumped with fright. ‘What on earth?’ she screamed. Turning, she saw a troll, whom had taken to living under the bridge. ‘He, Hello.’ she said to the troll who was barefoot, had long shaggy hair and torn clothes. He wasn’t very large, like you would read in a story but quite scary. He had sharp teeth and big round eyes. He had very VERY large feet. ‘You make shoe?’ The troll asked with very bad English. ‘Ye, yes I do.’ She replied. ‘Make shoe for me? Feet cold.’ he stated, pointing at his feet. ‘Yes, indeed. Nobody around here should be without a shoe, not even a troll. She walked to the troll and took a look at his feet. She had just the right amount of leather back at her shop left over from mending other’s shoes. 'I will come back later and fit you for some shoes ok?’ ‘Ok.’ said the troll and he jumped over the bridge and disappeared beneath. Later that day, the cobbler returned. She had two very, VERY large shoes and had to borrow a trailer to pull them along behind her. She heard snoring as she apprached and made her way down along the side of the bridge. She was greeted by the Troll’s large feet sticking out the side. ‘Excuse me,’ she said. ‘I have your shoes.’ He wouldn’t wake up so she put them on him and they fit perfectly. She wrote a note, which read ‘Enjoy your shoes, your feet are no longer cold, when they wear away, I’ll be back to mend, as I make new what is old.’ So she made her way home to her old little cottage, took off her own shoes who were glad of the freedom and hopped around unknown to her. Very tired after her day, she got into bed and went to sleep only to be awakened during the night, by ferocious noises outside. They frightened her greatly, rattling and banging and clanging. She covered her head and hoped it would stop. When the light began to shine through in the morning, she realised the noise had now stopped and the birds began to sing. She was ever so tired and still a little frightened to go outside. ‘What on earth was all that racket?’ she put on her shoes who were not where she'd left them and stepped outside. She could not believe her eyes.’ Her garden was beautifully decorated in old tin cans,bottle caps, coins and anything shiny that you could think of that people had thrown away. It wasn’t a mess though, it was so, so beautiful. She wandered around and below a tree where bottles lay hanging making lovely sounds in the cool morning breeze, lay a piece of paper beside some fresh flowers whose stems were wrapped carefully in foil. On the piece of paper was a message which read, ‘The shoe fits feet, you very kind. This garden now is only thanks I could find.’ She smiled to herself, looked around at the lovely garden and went to work. She never saw the Troll again, as with warm dry feet he wandered off to find a new home. 

The Cobbler and The Fortunate Shoes.

Once upon a time, there was an old leather shoe. It was a left shoe, thrown away, this shoe lived in a ditch. Some mice came to live in it from time to time and it had seen many creatures come and go. One day this shoe decided that it did not want to be stuck rotting in a ditch for the rest of its days and so hopped out of the ditch and onto a long road. It hopped all day, stopped when a car approached so as not to be seen and went on when it passed. It came to a stop as it grew tired. It didn’t know where it was going or what it was going to do but it knew it did not want to live in a ditch. It rested for a while before hearing someone talk. ‘What’s this then?’ an old woman said standing over the old shoe. ‘What a lovely shoe!’ she said. ‘I have a right shoe similar to this at home.’ The old woman wore tattered clothes and was not very clean. She had long ragged grey hair and wore socks only, which had large holes in them and her toes poked through. Picking up the shoe, she brought it home. She lived in a tiny cottage with a warm open fire. A poor woman, she couldn’t afford clothes. She lay the shoe down and went off to wash herself. The shoe looked around and noticed the other shoe the woman had mentioned earlier. It too was tattered and old. Shoes could hop when nobody was looking and they could see through the lace holes but they could not talk. They hopped around one another pleased to see another shoe. When the old woman returned, fresher and clean, she tried them on. They were not a pair but they were very comfortable and each fit perfectly. ‘What beautiful new shoes I have.’ Thought the old woman about these old battered pair. They weren’t sure that she could see them as they both knew they weren’t the prettiest shoes in the world but they did not know that although she had tattered clothes and no matching shoes of her own, she was an expert cobbler and had once a lovely shoe shop in the local town. Her shop closed up however when she lost customers over time as a bigger, shop opened and sold cheaper shoes. She soon became poor and jobless. She took the shoes, and placed them on a dresser. She got out some leather she’d found out and about and some needle and thread and began to stitch and sew. She had two heels she’d found somewhere from shoes long gone and hammered them onto the pair. Oh they did begin to look pretty. She polished them up and laced them, tried them on and wore them into town. Everyone admired this woman’s beautiful shoes. ‘I’ve never seen shoes as pretty as that in the shoe shop, people would whisper.’ She wore these a lot for the next few weeks. Many people had seen them and one day, someone approached her to ask where she’d bought them. ‘Could I possibly ask, where you got such lovely shoes?’ she asked. This woman was stunned by her story and soon everyone in town knew about her incredible talent. Their cheap shoes kept breaking and tearing. They came to her to mend their shoes and she soon had so many shoes to mend, that she opened up her own mending shop. She’d make the average shoe beautiful. Soon she became quite wealthy again but as her shoes that brought her this great fortune would wear away again, she’d just continue to mend and wear them. She didn’t forget how grateful to them she was. They were grateful too.

The Cat That Lived In The Rug

There once was a rug with a picture of a cat. Who came alive, where on, the moonlight sat. Yawning and stretching she'd stand up straight. Then say "after that sleep I've lost some weight." So she'd sneak to the kitchen and eat until full. She'd run around the room playing with balls of wool. And hide on the child, when it woke with a fright. Before purring with contentment at this wonderful night. Below the skylight, she would look at the moon. "When you go away, I will need to sleep soon." So as the night passed by, and the moon disappeared. The mice came out, searching for the cat they feared. But alas she was gone, not to be found. As a picture in the rug, the cat was now sleeping sound. 

The Woman Who Wore A Hedge As A Hat

A woman once, wore a hedge for a hat and many eyelids, she did make bat.

People would point and laugh and shout, "Look at that woman, who let her out?" She took no notice and wore it away, not minding what the people did say.  "Look at that woman with a hedge on her head. You wouldn't catch me doing that, not even if dead." So the woman with the hat turned her head, and then she said, "I'm not dead, I'm quite alive. With this hedge on my head I simply thrive. Who says one cannot wear a hedge? For if I do, I won't fall from a ledge. It's something I choose to wear and for your comments, I do not care. I don't mock and laugh at that colourful dress, for it's your choice, I must confess. The book you hold comes from a tree, so you are wearing one don't you see? Do not mock others for a different way, as you may need a hedge someday. To shelter from the sky above, or to place in, an injured Dove." So she walked away and the hedge she put down, then out flew a Dove not white but brown. "Go free bird, you are better now", then she stepped back and took a small bow.