Nest of Prose

Important papers everywhere,
coats and hats hang on the door.
Cleared, a patch upon the floor
where work is done,
not on the desk.

Coffee mugs store
dregs of drinks
well savored,
along with lucky pens.
Food remains on china plates
cover rough drafts
to be worked on
when the time is right.

Open novels
on every surface
places marked with tissue paper.
Doodles sketched on the calendar
that sits beneath the
mess, who cradles words
much like a nest,
until they're sought by wondering eyes.





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