‘Tis a fair enough question, will I have to live in a million and one villages like this?
Before a publisher comes a knocking on my door
A smaller outlook, less to think about, perhaps a little less to impress the residents
That’s where I come in, penning a poem about this, about that, a couple touching on my party-hard sins
Would I mind it too much or do I need the bright lights of the city?
I really don’t know right now, which way my mind wants to go
It seems it will always be about the writing and to some people that might seem a little frightening
Not for me, I guess I just need to take the time, sit it out, wait and see
‘Tis a fair question, I’m open to suggestions

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