When the muse sits on my shoulder
Dictating words
And I’m typing as fast as I can
Fingers crawling
Across the keyboard
At a steady clip
Thoughts drip
Drip
Drip
I only own as much as she’ll give me
And I don’t even own that
My muse is not a dog
But a rather fickle cat
But I need her
So I heed her when she calls
In the dead of night
Tip toeing through the house
Switch on a light
Sit down
Because
I don’t write
I download
Header photo: the iconic out door cinema in Winton – to sit under the stars watching a movie on the big screen, hum in an old canvas chair. It’s amazing.
