I spin a black biro pen in my eager hand,
Over the blank paper where it falls and lands,
As I sit at the table in my small, cottage house.
I stare out of the window as I think to myself,
The stream rushes down the garden, glistening as it flows,
Many birds soar over, singing as they go,
Flowers are everywhere, bursting with colour and happiness,
Lack of weeds and visible, gotten rid with their nastiness,
Further in the distance I watch the edge of the tree tunnel,
Sheltering the creatures where they huddle.
I watch the butterflies 'flitter flutter' over the fields galore,
I see the cattle munching on grass from the sweet green floor,
I see my dog run home covered in mud,
Clearly proud of himself because of what he's done.
As I sit at the table in my small, cottage house,
I stare out of the window as I think to myself,
I pick my black biro pen up and into my hand,
Place the nib to the blank paper and...
Begin to loop and twirl in black ink,
Writing my poem which is soon to be in print,
It'll be found in books, libraries, shops,
Along with more, I'll be nonstop.
I'll love to have my poems read by people all around,
Making them smile, getting rid of each frown,
I'll be delighted, ecstatic, with what I've achieved,
My poems everywhere, making people happy.
As I sit at the table in my small, cottage house,
I stare out of the window as I think to myself.
*29/09/2020*