I'll start with a thank you. 

Thank you to the kind bloggers who read and appreciated my rather rough poetic post last night; in the middle of my bad time, it felt like the right thing to drag myself to the computer and type out the words -- and, indeed, I began to feel better relatively quickly afterwards.

I felt so embarrassed writing it, but something instinctively told me it was the right thing to do -- and I'm so glad that I did it. 

I felt so alone, but reaching out helped:
The therapy of writing helped. 
The positivity helped. 
And the comments helped. 

But there was also one more thing.

So if you'll indulge me a moment, I'd like to pay a brief tribute to a lovely lady and kind friend... she sometimes comments on my posts here; she is responsible for getting me into blogging [yes, you can blame her!], and I refer to her as "Professor Lovely". 

Not for the first time, talking to her eased my mind and pain last night; she knows me well and knows what to say. 

We've been friends for about a year -- a very eventful year! -- and I wasn't sure what to make of her at first. She was [and is] spirited and charismatic, brave and forthright, very serious-minded yet often deliciously wicked and witty in her humour.  

-- And I was terrified of her!

The more I got to know her, the more I liked her -- and indeed with her experience of the light and the dark in life, she was the first person I ended up talking to when I Hit Rock Bottom of the end of last year. 

Her brightness in unquestionable, and her warmth unfeigned. 

-- And I'm still terrified of her!

Below is a poem that I wrote for her... but before you run off to Weston-super-Mare with the idea that I'm writing a romantic poem here, I'm not: 'tis but a simple declaration of the fondness and respect I have for a friend who happens to be female. 

Now, in January, the Professor referenced some of this poem in her own blog. But I'd like to post it here in full... 

The sunlight is in her hair. 
It's also in her soul. 
She said to me, sweetly:
"Sometimes we need to have a fucking word with ourselves."

She knows her stuff -- and I listen. 
When I've been low, I've reached out my hand
For her to gently hold it in her own; 
And hers is the hand of a sister. 

She is blessed in life, many times over, 
Though adversity has knocked on her door often. 
But I am blessed, too 
For she is my friend. 

Thank you, Professor. x   




    1. Aww, thank you Amanda… at the risk of pure sickly sweetness [argh!] I’m blessed in all my friends. 🙂

      I hope you have a pleasant morning; I thought I’d better get a reply in quick as my Quest for You-Know-What resumes in 6 minutes…


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