Let’s go back to Allihies
Where the trees do not grow
No more than bent over shrubs
the harsh winter winds

Where the sheep outnumber folk
And the grass is lushest green
Flowers bloom by the wayside
And lambs walk the road

A scattering of farmyards
Along narrow twisting lanes
Two pubs, a church and village store
One gas pump serves all the needs

The sea rolls in crashes on the sand
Air is fresh, kissed by the toss of a wave

Mornings are soaked with dew
Evaporated by sun, day-long and sunset

The sun disappears over the Atlantic
Slow in its descent, colors gather
Then merge with no seam, filling skies
Huge the orb as it glitters the sea

Take me back to Allihies
Let’s be hungry from fresh air
See those stump trees, stand in the sea
Count the sheep till we deeply sleep

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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