on the desk,
lies a mountain of words.
peaks and valleys
of thought,
tortured or crafted,
into a landscape.

sometimes rich
and sometimes barren

i and my trusty pen,
Red,
must find trails and pathways,
again and again....

with just coffee and biscuits,
on which to survive.
we must criss cross
these foothills and
mountain peaks.

we search for,
inspired thought
and new ground broken.

i am pilgrim...once again.