But

But ...the first person to have faith in my poetry, the frirst person to say that I write poetry, the first person to say to me that I was a poet. We all need that first person; I found mine in Buxtton, among a vast variety of guidance and wandering. Twenty one poems where softmess enters my life, where anger is receded almost entirely, This is poetry that celebrates the time given to poetry, time when I look out over the railtrack and the corrugated roofed shed, from my single room, single bed, shower pod, shared kitchen accommodation.



© Christopher Sanderson 2017