Words by A Wensley

Childhood is a Waning Crescent If I could measure the width of your childhood between this year and the next, dear girls, it would be as thin as a waning crescent. It will be barely visible soon. If I could measure the circumference of my pride, dear Esther, between your mocks and results day, it would be radiance squared. We’ll go full circle next year with dear Rosa! If I could measure the hem of your dreams, between your proms and Eighteen, dear girls, it would equal the number of stars in the sky. And expand infinitely, just like the Universe. If I could measure the angle of your edge, between your spectrum and your brilliance, dear Rosa, it would be right, not obtuse. And all the worlds would turn in your direction. If I could measure the fate of the Earth and place it for you in the palm of your hands, it too would be as thin as a waning crescent. But it's all the brighter for you two living on it. A Wensley 16.12.2025 🌙 Photo by Ralph Hoyte 📸 

Carted away From the drudgery of my kitchen sink I hear the sound of distant speakers Reverberating Slade off the homes On our estate, Oh I wish it could be Christmas everyday! It's a carnival cart, A Bridgwater carnival cart, And as it draws closer I feel compelled To witness this spectacle up close, To see the awe lit up by bulb-light In the faces of my neighbours' children. My teens seem not as enthused as I, A blankness on their faces when I suggest we go out to see. Perhaps their childlike wonder has passed away, Never to be seen again? But mine? It needed testing… So, picture the image of a woman in her late 40s Striding out of her back gate  And up the cart-bulb illuminated street To stop and wave As Father Christmas  From his wooden, community-created-car Sits high above a cracker-converted tractor  and waves back, with gusto! There is joy! Maybe not in the passing eyes  Of the empty donation-bucket carriers, But yes! There is joy in this perimenopausal world...