Metaphorically speaking
I wanted to extend the house
There was no room out front
No room either at the back
Sure as hell no room at the sides
I was in the small back bedroom
Are all back bedrooms small
I looked out of the window
I wrote those first words
On a business contact index card
It was all I had to hand
The poem detail is all gone
Sadness, darkness, angst
For no good reason whatsoever
I write this only as a record
It was a beginning, of sorts
It is the only thing I’ve stuck at
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