In this so called office,I am trapped
Trying hard to write and to adapt
I have numerous pens in this my cell
Reminding me of school, the longed for bell
Ten past four, we put on winter clothes
I crossed the Park in fog, it wet my nose
Walking down our street I’d see the cat
Sitting on the pavement, Ginger spat
I put the kettle on to make our tea
The coal glowed low and red like elves in glee
The aluminium teapot never broke
The kettle had turned black , the milk was smoked
I had that tiny piece from others free
That was when I learned that I am Me
