Poetry

My space

I have a workshop where I write.

It’s a box that is warm in the winter

and cool in the summer.

Shelves cover one wall and

art adorns the sides.

A window sits but you can’t see out.

Instead the cool green of young trees filter

the light.

A sofa takes up the far wall,

but you can’t use it. It is filled with a

dog, quick to wag and smile.

On the desk

a computer, sleek and black.

A sound system beats to Radio Two and

the tapping of keys keep time.

The door is always open and the greeting warm.

This is a place of fairy tale and story.

Stay quiet long enough and you might see

a fae or troll hiding out before they are called

to take their place in the latest tale.

 

This poem was inspired by the daily prompt – writing space.

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8 thoughts on “My space

      1. Come here you goblin, we need milk. Now be a good goblin and run down to the shop for us would you?

        OK he’s gone now, at least you have a few minutes of peace. I do hope he doesn’t get lost though.

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