Jacob is going home today.
And meanwhile, I am alone in this big old house,
tiptoeing around the sleeping beast of my writing,
picking at its edges,
seeing if I still know it,
still feel it.
there are no babies, no cries or moans to distract me,
just my cold toes on the wooden floor,
the sound of birds in the tree outside,
the sudden urge for a cup of strong tea. –
anything to distract me from waking up this thing.
elisabeth pike 