I am not strong enough to attend poetry workshop today.
I am thinking about people who have severe M.E., those for whom the minute details of life can take on extraordinary significance. I have been deeply moved by the posts on Greenwords’ blog (thanks nmj) and by the following words, which I assume are hers:
“I live in bed and plant flowers under my pillow. They bloom round my head and I pick them for visitors. I’m not tired. Would you like a daisy, a song or a feather?”