Bush Poet Merv Webster
I was feeling down, despondent, though I could not figure why.
Hell… perhaps it was the weather and the fact that things were dry.
It’s a soul, sapping experience when blue skies will not cease,
bringing melancholy moments, when one’s soul cannot find peace.
Then my mood was interrupted by an e-mail coming through
and I glanced down at my laptop; it was from a mate I knew.
Howard was a fellow poet whom I’d met last year in May,
who would often send me stories that someone had sent h