By Josie Whitehead
I’m a collector words, a gatherer of rhymes;
I’m a hoarder of phrases. Is that such a crime?
They’re here, in a box - yes, under my bed.
Or would they be better in a cupboard instead?
Adjectives are noisy but so are the verbs.
Oh where else can I store such a wide range of words?
I must creep very carefully as I pass by my bed,
For, without any warning, they’ll pop in my head.
I'll creep through the bedroom like a ghost in the night.
I don't want to wake them or cause them some fright! Oh dear!!! What I dreaded - a writer’s worst fear! - That means no sleep tonight that’s perfectly clear!!
Copyright on all my poems