At a plain desk cocooned in a sun cherished nook
Editing my novel with a hour stolen
Voices inside my head captured between pages
I can’t finish, I’m no writer, I’ll never be good enough
In the citadel of books, all voices are shushed
Cloistered in hardback silence
Cloistered in hardback silence
In the citadel of books, all voices are shushed
I can’t finish, I’m no writer, I’ll never be good enough
Voices inside my head captured between pages
Editing my novel with a hour stolen
At a plain desk cocooned in a sun cherished nook
circularstaircase 