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.