My Favourite Place to Write

In a tidy little nook,

With a comfy place to sit,

A coffee that’s steaming,

And a window for quiet contemplation.

I find my favourite place to write.

On the edge of a riverbank,

With bird sounds and a bubbling brook,

Crisp, clean air,

And a gentle breeze.

I find my favourite place to write.

On a creeky old rocker,

With a whiskey in hand,

Crackling flames dancing before me,

Primed for overthinking.

I find my favourite place to write.

In a freshly cleaned room,

Track marks on the carpet,

Open windows and spring air,

Mixing with the aroma of a freshly brewed tea.

I find my favourite place to write.

On the soft white sand,

Waves crashing in the distance,

Saltwater and sun on skin,

The scent of summer in the air.

I find my favourite place to write.

In the bustle of a busy cafe,

Coffee beans and fresh pastries tickling senses,

Tempting and beckoning,

A quiet spot in the middle of chaos.

I find my favourite place to write.

At the cluttered kitchen table,

One hand on the keyboard,

The other nursing rosé,

At the end of a busy day.

I find my favourite place to write.

In the unexpected moments,

Of quiet and reprieve,

When tired feels overwhelming,

But inspiration conquers.

I find my favourite place to write.

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No matter where I am,

No matter who I be,

My favourite place to write,

Goes everywhere with me.

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This was in response to a poetry challenge, tagged by Arpad Nagy.

—Write a poem about your favourite place to write.