Composing

The keyboard beams before me

in blurry white light,

asking for words and thoughts

to be plucked from the swirl of ideas

and tapped onto the hard drive.

A few seconds pass by.

The cat jumps up on my knees

brushing past my poised elbows,

and the ideas,

like smoke in a breeze,

are disturbed.

I look at my fingers,

creased and a little hairy,

notice that my veins, shadowed in the dim light

seem to be protruding

more than normal.

I drum from the pinky

to the index finger

with each hand, breathe deeply.

With great determination

I begin the tap tap tap.

-Nicola Barber