Friday, February 7, 2014
Perhaps a Good Book
Just outside my office the tinny rasp of rainfall pounds the old metal canopy above the window. The clock over my head pounds the seconds insistently against my wishes. Business is slow during the early hours. It's cool and wet and why slip the blanket when the bed is warm and you've company with which to snuggle.
So, here I sit. I cannot rouse my muse. She is slow to wake which makes my morning, here in the half-light of this office, all the more quiet as the seconds tick my storage of life's calendar.
I need a book. Preferably one which I haven't as yet read. There is the Kindle but I want paper bound in clothe with perhaps the perfume of age. I have such but its located miles to the north and out of my reach. Tick, tick, tick.
The steady beat of time, sucks.
Stephen
So, here I sit. I cannot rouse my muse. She is slow to wake which makes my morning, here in the half-light of this office, all the more quiet as the seconds tick my storage of life's calendar.
I need a book. Preferably one which I haven't as yet read. There is the Kindle but I want paper bound in clothe with perhaps the perfume of age. I have such but its located miles to the north and out of my reach. Tick, tick, tick.
The steady beat of time, sucks.
Stephen