Four Ships and good sleep…

There are four ships lying in the English channel not too far from here. Their home port is full of furloughed vessels. It’s because the crew have been on board for a year or more due to the pandemic. The poor crew need time on land and will maybe be flown home and other crew will take over when they are cleared to sail again.

Amazingly, cruises are booked up already even though they are a hot house for infectious disease. I can’t think of anything worse than a cruise. Give me a train journey any day.

My harbour is cluttered still, and perhaps more. I watch the tugs and pilots go out to bring in vessels as well as seeing them out. The huge Russian one has left and smaller ones are in it’s place.

Work has stopped at the site. I can only pray. Please pray with me. The ombudsman has my case now.

I am sleeping well. 99% of the time I wake refreshed. Pain is still minimal but my mood is low.

My garden is full of delights. Flowers I did not expect. My tomato plants need resurrecting after the rain, so I am going to do that now and finish painting my gate.

Thank you for reading.

By Chrisssie Morris Brady

I've read poetry since I was nine and have written creatively since I was fourteen (probably long before that). After writing book reviews and social comment, I decided I wanted to write poetry. I have no formal training, but I surround myself with poets and their writing. I am honing my craft.
I have two published collections which I don't feel good about, but have been published by and other publications. I live on the south coast of England with my daughter. I am seriously ill.

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