This afternoon, I am grateful to have been inspired by HillWalker’s gratitude poem on #WritersByNight to sit down with a cup of tea and write a poem about gratitude.

I am grateful for this cup of tea:
My indifference to the decaf teabag, a painless transition.
Fresh milk from the top of the carton, promising cuppas for days.
The cup, purchased in an uncharacteristic burst of consumerism in a far flung shopping mall.

I am grateful for these things about my bed:
The notebook and propellor pencil on the windowsill, receptive to my thoughts.
The view through the window: a tree turning to gold and a clear, crisp sky.
The electric blanket toasting my underside as the November air nips at my nose.

I am grateful for these three places I can walk to:
The lido, where I submerge and glide and reflect and breathe.
My ‘back garden’, London’s oldest Royal Park, I am blessed.
The Thames at low tide, the sun low in the sky waving at the day.

I am grateful for these three friends:
Hannah for the loyalty, remembering my memories and the boys.
My OG friends, Anne and Jasmin, our October holidays and all the magic in between.
Zélie and Patricia, our long friendships strengthened and sustained by letter writing.

I am grateful for these three books:
‘How to Live Forever’, rich and multi-layered with a profound message at its heart.
‘Things Fall Apart’ by an Igbo writer who crafted a tale for all humanity.
‘Natives’ because Akala has generously shared his wisdom.

I am grateful for these types of inventors:
Those who cut through the noise to simplify others’ lives.
Those who think about the impact of what they are inventing.
Those who inject humour and joy into what they create.

I am grateful for these three home from home places:
Brighton, my student home, the welcome embrace of friends old and new.
Woolacombe: twenty-five years, generally unwashed, always in my heart.
Miami North Beach in February, postcard perfect plus chicken hearts.

I am grateful for these three things I like to wear:
My flip flops always and everywhere until it’s slidy icy.
Hair scarves, the unexpected bonus discovery of lockdown.
Anything that allows me to swim, preferably as little as possible.

Whenever I feel down and gloomy,
I write a list of three things
For which I Am Grateful.