Still Life

When composing poetry, I like to lie in the corner of the lounge room, behind the big chair, with my head under the curtain. It’s the spot where I get the least interruptions.

There’s no “pop up to the roof and see what that noise was Enzo” or “come and lick this breakfast bowl before it goes in the dishwasher”. It’s just peace and quiet.

Sometimes it’s so peaceful that I fall asleep and don’t actually get any poetry written; but then… “Rome wasn’t built in a day” as the Silverback likes to say. (He has a penchant for stating the obvious and calling it wisdom.)