The Writing Shed

Will I write in here as snows arrive

Locked eyes and fingers frenzied?

Imagined places, chattering teeth

With windows needing mended

Or will the soft and ancient chair

Seduce me in the corner?

To doze and dream-up worlds galore

While Spring drifts by in wonder

But it’s unlikely that this shed

Will grace me with it’s favours

The ancient box: creative pride

Belongs to next door neighbours

©Stephen Tanham

12 Replies to “The Writing Shed”

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