when you come tomorrow/a phonecall part 2.

Have put below a couple of lines with the ones you disliked, to see if you could like a different sound. Your words flow as those of old and from a past that the great bard was so apt to write. Also you seem to write at the night time which would indicate to me that you are being assisted from other places. We are spiritualists here and are in contact with all sorts of people that have left this earth plain, to return to what we call home, my writings are as I have said from someone or several someones where even I haven't the time to compose such works, in that I have always been able to just write at the drop of a hat anywhere and anytime the words will flow, it takes time to capture the ones that I write, it is such a shame that there are thousands of words that flow through that are lost. Keep up your flow of prose should I say, as they ar a light from the past, and a range of words that could be lost if you did not pen them.... And no lying words (Then make deceit flee) From your mouth. (With truthful words) Take care out there and I hope you find that place sooner than tomorrow, Yours Ian.T PS:- England is beautiful as is NZ a place I would love to see, there is a poem called "Home Thoughts From Abroad" that aptly says it all in a few words.... Oh, to be in England Now that April's there, And whoever wakes in England Sees, some morning, unaware, That the lowest boughs and the brushwood sheaf Round the elm-tree bole are in tiny leaf, While the chaffinch sings on the orchard bough In England--now!! And after April, when May follows, And the whitethroat builds, and all the swallows! Hark, where my blossomed pear-tree in the hedge Leans to the field and scatters on the clover Blossoms and dewdrops--at the bent spray's edge-- That's the wise thrush; he sings each song twice over, Lest you should think he never could recapture The first fine careless rapture! And though the fields look rough with hoary dew, All will be gay when noontide wakes anew The buttercups, the little children's dower --Far brighter than this gaudy melon-flower! Robert Browning