I rarely write at my desk,
I mostly write in bed,
Stealing hours from my sleep,
In the evenings or mornings.
Sometimes I write on the train,
Tapping poetry or prose into my phone
As the driver whisks me to my destination.
Then there is the odd coffee shop,
Plane ride,
Car journey,
Corner of a family function,
Where inspirations strikes,
And demands my service.
And thus,
Every place becomes a place for words,
A place where truth transcends time and space.
