Imagining myself to be a poet
Baby cradled in one arm
I wait for a flash of inspiration
Words seem to peel off my other arm
In strips, skin curling upwards,
Turning into crisps
My toddler picks one up and
eats it – Mummy, I want some
more, more!
All hope of an idea vanishes.
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Published by The Silly-Savvy Salopian
Freelance writer and descendant of the cave dweller and outlaw, Humphrey Kynaston. Banished from Shropshire for my eccentricity, I have made my home in Suffolk. I write poetry, short stories, travel journals, comedy gig reviews and non-fiction articles. My wish is to write my way back into the heart of my birth land. All writing commissions (and free holidays in Shropshire!) considered.
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