In the velvet cloak of night,
A cosmic dance begins,
Seven celestial bodies align,
A rare and wondrous sight.

Mercury, swift and bright,
First to greet the twilight,
Dancing close to the sun's embrace,
A fleeting, golden light.

Venus, the evening star,
Glistens with a lover's glow,
Her beauty unmatched, afar,
In the twilight's gentle flow.

Mars, the warrior bold,
Burns with a crimson fire,
A tale of battles old,
And dreams that never tire.

Jupiter, the giant king,
With moons in loyal throng,
His presence, a majestic ring,
A symphony, a song.

Saturn, with his rings of ice,
A crown of ancient lore,
In the sky, a paradise,
A wonder to explore.

Uranus, the tilted one,
A mystery in the night,
His azure hue, a distant sun,
A beacon, cold and bright.

Neptune, the farthest blue,
In the depths of space he roams,
A world of secrets, few,
In the vast, eternal homes.

Together, they align,
A parade of cosmic grace,
A moment so divine,
In the boundless, starry space.

The heavens sing their song,
A melody of light,
A harmony so strong,
In the quiet of the night.

Gaze upon this sight,
A gift from realms above,
A fleeting, rare delight,
A testament of love.

For in this grand display,

The universe reveals,
Its wonders, night and day,
And the magic it conceals.

From the coffee house window, she stands so near,
A lady busking, her melodies clear.
On the market corner, her voice does rise,
A beacon of song, under cloudy skies.

Shoppers bustle, with bags in hand,
Yet pause for a moment, to join her band.
A minute or two, they stand and sway,
Enchanted by the music, in their busy day.

With nimble fingers, she strums her guitar,
Notes dancing like wishes on a falling star.
Her voice, a sweet lullaby, soft and free,
Echoes through the market, like a gentle sea.

Coins clink softly, in her open case,
A token of thanks, for the smile on each face.
In the rhythm of life, her tunes take flight,
A brief interlude, in the shoppers' plight.

Children tug on sleeves, eyes wide with glee,
As parents smile, lost in the melody.
Old friends reunite, share stories anew,
With her songs as the backdrop, their bonds grew.

From the coffee house window, I watch and see,
A scene so vibrant, a living tapestry.
The lady busking, with her heartfelt tune,
Brings warmth and light, like a sunny June.

In every note, a tale is told,
Of love, of loss, of days of old.
Her music weaves through the market square,
A thread of magic, in the midday air.

And as the sun dips, shadows grow long,
Her voice still carries, the heart of her song.
A fleeting moment, a melody shared,
As the market slows and daylight fades.

Beneath the frost, life stirs,
Whispers of warmth in the breeze,
A symphony of colours,
Unfolding in the dawn.
Buds break through the earth,
Reaching for the sun,
Petals unfurl, soft and new,
A canvas painted fresh.

Birdsong fills the air,
Melodies of hope and renewal,
Each note a promise,
Of days growing longer, brighter.
The world shakes off its slumber,
Stretching, yawning, awakening,
To the gentle touch of spring,
A season reborn.

No light, no sound,
A void where echoes drown.
In the stillness, whispers fade,
Dreams in shadows, softly laid.

Time stands still, a breathless pause,
In the dark, no cause, no laws.
Stars unseen, yet hearts still beat,
In the silence, souls do meet.

A world within, where thoughts collide,
In the quiet, truths reside.
No light, no sound, yet life profound,
In the hush, we are unbound.

On the cusp of spring, in morning light,
Emerges a bloom, pure and white.
A daisy bold, midst blades of green,
Tales of springtime dreams unseen.

Daisy, darling, harbinger bright,
Whispers of warmth in the fading night.
In a world yet cold, your petals gleam,
A promise of the springtime dream.

Through winter's grasp, you find your way,
With golden heart that bids the day.
Courageous flower, tender and sweet,
In the dawning spring, our eyes do meet.

Though frost may linger, though skies be grey,
Your beauty heralds a brighter day.
In gardens wild or manicured lawn,
With you, dear daisy, spring is born.

So sing, dear daisy, your silent song,
As nature's chorus joins along.
In your embrace, we find our cheer,
For spring is nigh, and warmth is near.

In the wake of new dawn, in a world so grand,
Where silicon and circuits danced hand in hand,
Rose a beacon of brilliance, in tech's vivid scheme,
The ZX Spectrum, a digital dream.

Born from the mind of Sinclair's bright flair,
A machine to empower, to educate, to dare,
With rainbow stripes and keys of rubber,
It sparked a revolution, igniting the cyber.

In living rooms and bedrooms, its presence was felt,
As young minds discovered the power it dealt,
Loading with tapes, with a screech and a whirl,
They entered new realms, as the code would unfurl.

From simple lines of BASIC, they crafted their art,
Creating worlds of wonder, from the depths of their heart,
Jet Set *****’s antics, and Manic Miner’s plight,
The Spectrum brought magic, day and night.

With colours and sounds, it lit up the screen,
A marvel of pixels, where gamers convene,
From Dizzy’s adventures to text-based quests,
The ZX Spectrum was truly the best.

In the hands of hobbyists, it sparked a new age,
Of homegrown creations, their talents engaged,
From coders to players, a community strong,
Their passion for pixels, a resonant song.

Through trials of loading, with patience and care,
They battled the glitches, with will to spare,
The Spectrum stood resilient, a titan of play,
A legend in computing, to this very day.

Though decades have passed, and tech has evolved,
The spirit of the Spectrum remains unresolved,
A testament to vision, to dreams and to skill,
The ZX Spectrum, remembered still.

In the nascent days of silicon dreams,
A revolution brewed, more than it seemed,
In the heart of Britain, where innovation sparked,
The dawn of home computing, a journey embarked.

Amidst the clatter of typewriters, and ink's gentle flow,
A vision took shape, for the future to know,
A microcomputer, for every home and school,
To empower the curious, a powerful tool.

The BBC Micro, affectionately the B,
A marvel of tech, for all to see,
With its sturdy build and keyboard bright,
A beacon of knowledge, a guiding light.

From classrooms to living rooms, its presence spread,
Young minds were awakened, by what it said,
Programming in BASIC, their imaginations soared,
With each line of code, new worlds explored.

Acorn's creation, a jewel so fine,
With teletext and graphics, ahead of its time,
From Elite’s vast galaxies, to educational quests,
The BBC B shone among the best.

In the spirit of '80s, where dreams took flight,
The BBC B stood, a technological knight,
A bridge to the future, where data could roam,
A gateway to knowledge, from the comfort of home.

It was more than a machine, it was a spark,
Igniting passions, in the light and the dark,
A symbol of progress, a herald of change,
In the annals of history, its name will remain.

So here’s to the BBC Micro, a legend in kind,
A testament to the power of the human mind,
From the '70s dawn, to the stars above,
The BBC B, with all our love.