| Don’t ask me, I really can’t be arsed, Zoom this, Zoom that, I want to be alone. Don’t you understand the precious gift of nothing of no one of time un counted of days unmeasured of mornings determined by the light and the softness of the pillow of the duvet’s feathered folds and the warble of bird song.Don’t tell me I should do this do that be that or this or should or could or will or maybe. I’m done I really can’t be bothered when I’m gazing into space while sitting in the sun listening to the whisper of the breeze. Don’t call me Susan Robertson |
| Amateur scribbler |