With bright jackets,
And cheeks pink with cold
All out of breath
You tumbled in the snow
With laughs and shrieks.
You were full of love,
Young flowerbuds in the snow.
But the random hand of death
Picked you
Before you could unfold.

Belgium, land of my birth, I send you my tears on your day of mourning.

I’ve been away from my notebooks for too long, no writing done for days, a busy week at work. This weekend, instead of writing, I have had my head full of our summer holiday to Germany. I found out there are thousands of kilometres of cycle paths, and one can cycle along the length of most of the rivers. On the Rhine and Mosel, a cycle journey can be made in one direction, and then the return journey can be a river cruise. Of course, we will cycle down stream, so little effort will be needed! And we can tour the Schwarzwald, and the Romantic Road, and see Berlin. I hope I can still remember some of the German I learnt at school.