After early retirement due to severe illness took up creative writing as an alternative to basket weaving, (Hands not strong enough for basket weaving)
Has started leading a very small group of U3a poets more »
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Comments about John Morris
There it was
Hidden in the tin,
Neatly packed in its plastic place
In the dark with ornate face
Turned twards the still closed lid,
Soon to open:
Still my hand upon the box,
Bind me with ten thousand locks,
Sap my strengh my will my power
Guide me past this fatefull hour
Send me to my bed to dream,
Without my nightly, custard cream.