Like pilgrims on a pilgrimage they followed.
Today he walked from room to room
For a change of solitude
Thus concentrating the mind
The last light of the setting sun
Bowing to the moon of night
Being now at peace with his thoughts
This was his time of contemplating
Meditating on what he might write
Relax, relax, relax,
Pen, his friend, always at hand
It was as if it knew what was planned
That in time something would be written
In sporadic rhyme
Between daylight and dark
There will be a spark
Words will carry him away
Anxious to be released from that head of silvery grey.
Coldly, calmly and with intent
These words the poet fashions
Will dissolve the grey mist
For the troubles of life are many
Always in the sowing, ends with reaping
Today he walked from room to room
For a change of solitude.
©Chris Black.
Poetry from The Man Shed
31st March 2020
~The Poet’s Poet~
Chris's Blog 
This is so eloquently versed. It has a lovely mood to it. I enjoyed reading this.
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You are most kind thank you, I should comment more often on your missives, forgive me as my words could not do them justice, believe when I like it is a recognition.
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You are most welcome. This commenting is still a fairly recent social phenomenon in the way we interact so it has taken me a while to get into it myself. I completely understand and I am grateful to you for your encouraging feedback. ❤
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Coffee and encouragement both requirements to get through this period, stay safe.
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And you. Keep up the great work!
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