Dear All,

I hope this week’s edition of our newsletter finds you all feeling a little bit warmer as we head towards my favourite season, which of course is spring. I wish I had an interesting story to regale you with, but unfortunately I don’t, all the interesting stuff, that’s probably happened, seems to have passed me by this week.

I seem to have spent the full week completely out of bed; what with getting home late, eating late, and then falling asleep in a cosy but cluttered spare room, usually fully clothed and without brushing my teeth. Then waking up at around 4 a.m. and doing all the things I should have done before I felt my eyes closing, but didn’t do, which is of course brush my teeth, pop my PJ’s on and get into bed. Until next week, take good care of yourselves and make sure you get enough sleep.

Looking out to see

Looking out to see.
I sit on the sand with my chin in my hands
and I stare out at the waves coming towards me.
Hoping that they will bring someone in to set me free.
I dig my elbows deeper into my knees, as I cast my
welled up loneliness and despair out onto the high seas.
Tears stream down my cheeks, some enter into my mouth.
I am surrounded by water, east; west, north and south.
My soul is once more cleansed as I lift my head up and look out to see.

Looking out to see.
My spectacles were so important to me.
When my boat capsized they fell off and I lost them to the sea.
I’m farsighted and I cannot see things up close,
If I were near sighted that would be worse I suppose.
I have no books to read nor fine sewing to do,
all I have is a salt stained photograph of you.
I cannot see your face no matter how far I hold it out in front of me.
I put it back in my pocket and I continue looking out to see.

A poem by Stephen Austwick