Corner time is thinking time

I sip my tea
to soothe my throat
and warm my knuckles
ready for a winter storm
of ideas
with a barren pad of paper on my knees.
The usual lot files in
and I smirk louder than a banshee
really honing in on the horrors
I’m likely to endure.
I say horrors like there will be a beheading
but among the slaying of ideas
I merely open my sinuses
now clear from the mint in my tea
to people-watch and wonder
about what you last said to me.

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Talk at me while I eat

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