JOY AT SEA My wheelchair sailing starts With a fall in the heads. My balance only just stable On land, gave way below The decks of Soren Larsen. Better a chair on deck or Below than no sense of joy. I fell in love with the movement Of the sea, below the hull. My ancestors sat on my shoulders And whispered in my ears Of hard work and deep sleep. Grandad murmured soft, 'Tis bleddy 'anse liddle maid.' I spent my money on passages To France, around the English coast. My years allotment of leave all gone Just to be at sea, just to be free. Each voyage made me stronger Toughened up my mental state Gave me 'Can Do' instead of 'careful'. Taught me trust,something I lack, When wheelchair and I are hoisted Up the mast to the crows nest. Or over the side into a rubber dinghy. Or helming on watch, or hauling As part of a team, where weak muscles Add it's own to the work. A lightning storm chasing us From the Channel Islands to Cawsands Bay. The thrill of the elements So close the sky seems alight. A good nights sleep and The adventure starts again. Another voyage in the memory.