‘Horse ‘n’ cart’
Seems to me he wanted it ALL from the very start
Up in the ungodly a.m., stretching his every single limb ’til soar
All over again
No such time for his beloved pen right now
In between all of these early-morning hours, he is forced to use an entirely separate kind of power
Those which forever swim within his bulging arms
Friendly and utterly disarming, apple-cart significance, selling all of these exotic, no doubt enticing, fruits to make his mother, his ailing father oh so proud
No doubt when the time lends itself to him once again it is right back to that shape-shifting pen
Always managing to stretch an affable imagination – lovingly told stories aside tales of no such restriction, typically unedited tragedy
Magic, the whole damn lot of it
A middle-aged balding man with fierce wits, both inside and out
So be sure to keep a juicy apple – a Granny Smith perhaps – for your dying father
Softly prise his final lip right open
No disguising true love
So keep writing and keep on pulling that loose rope you tie right round your equally wondrous horse’s neck, ’til you begin to feel an utter sense of hope once more

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