Fresh from the Paper

Hi there.

So...writing eh. Not getting too much of that done lately. It's all a bit up in the air as far as actual writing goes, but fingers crossed things will improove next month when things aren't so hectic with work, etc.
Been doing lots of creative things to stimulate my mind, reading whenever possible mostly. Been watching lots of new films - classics and ones that people say 'oh you MUST see that' about. So recently it's been 'Casablanca', 'And God Made Women', 'Beckitt', 'Once Upon a Time in China' and others besides. So keeping busy even if I've not been writing :D

I do however have one poem which I wrote...just now! Haven't been on the poems for a while now, they tend to be either dribs and drabs of massive chunks where I'll write 20 in a week then none for months :D But yes, here is the first draft of one I wrote today, maybe I'll update a second draft at a later date so ya'll can see how it changes :)

Thanks, Celia

---

Your office is my favourite.

Your desk is the centre stage
and life evolves around it.
I’m standing in your world.
The shelving units
are bowing under the weight
of all those books.
No order, just crammed in
and brimming,
ready to cascade.
Dust tries to settle
on the pages of poets,
Dickens, Coleridge, Shakespeare.
I clean carefully
around the medley of mess,
the special organization
understood by no one
but you.
Little scraps of paper
in shorthand and symbols
are anything but rubbish –
these are your bibles,
your babies.
I understand the necessity
of a dirty coffee cup,
flecked with mould.
A writer cannot be
without their coffee cup.
The obligatory assortment
of pens and pencils
stare at me.
They are the middle man
to your thoughts.
I hold my breath as I dust,
cautiously vacuuming,
tenderly wiping.
All cleaners have their favourites,
to treat as their own
and lavish with love.
Your office stole my heart.