A Quill Made In Heaven Poem by Bryan Taplits

It's this which has me thrilled
When rested and at home
When my work is done-
At sauntering winking sun
(And rusticating in my home)
It's then I write this poem.

The locks are closed and tight-
Each reflecting in the night-
Though winds they howl and wail,
I feel secluded from all travail.
And I witness a 'delight'-
Solaced from pangs or slights-
It's then I write my poems-
And diligently work my way back home.

Fatigued, but I don't care
The scribbles come and go
I don't know from when or where-
But in separate currents-they all flow.
Time no longer is my foe
On each word do I dote
No longer back bent low
As I proceed to write...
the poem that I just wrote.