Dean Bottomley Biography

I saw a Primrose today, I doubt it saw me
As it peeped, coyly from amongst the long grass.
How can such hope and promise be held
In such a small shy flower?
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If you would have the route to grand success
So you will know that always you will win.
Take butter, fifty grams, no more no less,
Then slices five of bread and put that in
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I listened to him for over an hour:
Chest out, head up, singing his soul’s feelings.
To who? Nobody listened, Nobody responded
But I did.
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How well I remember as I’m slumped in my chair:
Be’reft of movement, bereft of hair.
My bodily odors might foul the air
I’m sorry, you see I’m not offered care.
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Scurrying, hurrying, shiny and black
A tiny head and a longer back.
Scuttling along the garden wall
Right on the edge but you don’t fall.
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