To sit and savour
A most interesting silence – by all accounts garnered, by this sluggish author who has been vilified

Sucked and sidled aside the ‘calling pen’
Driven to fend and write

Tends to follow the draw of the tantalised finger and align her lingering thoughts intertwined by conscientious time

With bare brazen brilliance and she, we, all of us whisper, so suddenly
Sullen, silken and worn-out til wound-up rectified

Tease the demonic maskings hidden working at unwilling will, which have been sinking, shrinking, purposefully tapestried to give birth to a wildfire swarmed to warm configurative within – instil, oh please God do me one such mammoth favour and instil til heavenly brush-stroked and thrillingly reinvigorated

The Stars can be incredibly right up there by the comfortably cornered sky when we feel our whole worldwide wielded works to be
Negligent and regrettably pitiful sometimes

And a screaming sight for sore eyes

Her mind grew, soon as she knew

No looking back