It’s where quaint and secluded
merge back from the road,
nestled in the verdant treed lot
where even the postman
never comes. It is here
by the fire at night
I read what I wish
till my book falls helpless
into my lap
until supple rays find my face
while birds scold me awake
and with brawny coffee
I embark on the new day
with the purity of paper
void of anything
and my head chasing
transitory images
to pen down on the page.
© 2010 – Michael A. Wells
A part of Magpie Tales 29
10 comments:
A beautiful poem - the house does looks like the perfect spot to spin and write!
ah, nice write...chase those words down the pen...nice take on this magpie...
perfect description of this house. Well written. I enjoyed this.
Beautiful, and a terrific opening line!!
Ah, I want to go there.
I want one, too! Lovely.
Magic in your words this week ....
Yes, to sit in a cottage like this one would add spice and magic to the words in your book. A lovely poem.
Well done.
Blessings, Star
lovely write and take on this prompt, refreshing...bkm
Oh how a room of my own would be enchanting, but a cottage of my own...pure bliss as are your words. Wonderfully penned.
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