This he knew was going to be
The most difficult poem he had ever attempted
Blotting paper and pen at hand
Carefully he lifted the pen, cleaned the nib
Then opening the vial of ink
Wrote the first words –
Dear Florence.
Dragging these anguished limbs
From this inhospitable bed
Repeating the morning vow –
Today perhaps, yes today.
Awaiting the arrival of those white coats
Good morning and how are you today
Each morning same question
The riposte the same
Why do you ask me, you are the medical team.
Really the value of life in certain quarters
Is that there is no value…
With that he left aside his pen.
Poetry from The ManShed
15/11/19
Chris's Blog 
Hope you are okay Chris.
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I good Fransi and you have you been missing for a couple of weeks or am I on the blink? An explanation on the last few efforts they raised their heads following some creative writing prompts.
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Glad to hear you’re ok Chris. I’m having computer problems and my tech support guy is away. So I have been missing in action. Hope to be back soon.
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Great news Fransi.
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Thanks Chris.
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I think there’s value in the heart valve
Repeating,to the beat of, what happens to the heart
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