Sometimes, words just come to you. I always have a pen and paper in my handbag, and in the car, and quite often when words come to me, unbidden, I have to pull over and scribble them down before they are lost forever.
In having to tidy up here before yet another agent passed through our portals, I found some scraps of paper with scribbles on. Here are the words on one scrap of paper.
In the still of night
The moonbow glitters,
Arching its silver bow to earth.
Myriad silver droplets forming
Reflecting a moonbeams'
Glance at Earth . . .
If I've posted this before, raise your eyebrows and shake your head - I'm having one of those weeks. I was so bejeebered by teatime yesterday that instead of pouring the milk into the cheese scone mix , I tipped it into the mince and gravy . . . Lord knows what I shall be like if we ever get a buyer . . .
