Every year at the end of January and before the rains end summer,
I try hard to cheer myself out of my holiday and into another year of paid employment.
Carefully, I go over all the benefits of having place of work and honestly admit that there are many.
In this endeavour I mostly succeed as all the years gone by confirm.
Then I sit on the balcony and look across the roof tops,
Heavy, low clouds hang over the hill tops.
Cruise ship glides across the water away from the harbour.
Alone seagull screeches into the still, hot air, heralding his
To come and go
And I stayed there for a long time,
Until dusk brings cold breeze of night.
Then I must go inside and start preparing for
If only I can remember