Nothing I Cared, in the lamb white days, that time would take me
Each micro-crevice ingrained upon my face
My mind set on standing up straight – the first thing on my plate
Then comes writing, wobbly as hell
Fountain pen ink falling like tears at my efforts
But the paper – Wow – it ate it up as imagination and colour spilled on the page
Flights of Fancy ? from a lad of 15 ?
Pick up your Tennyson, lad – you’re still green
What they didn’t know – I was reading at Home
as colour and language they mixed in the Zone
Kipling my Double Bass – Tennyson Clarinet with
Pratchett on Drums , A Definate bet
My Inspirations for tales of Adventure and Romance –
A Great Jazzy combo – to be read and advanced.
Napowrimo , Day 25