I was in a bookshop earlier today and read a bit of a book about writing poetry. The author suggested to write only 50 words , and then turn them into a poem. So I tried this tonight.
In a quiet corner of the
Poetry Library, gathering
As the wind blows across the river
And the orchestra plays nearby.
People mill about but she is well hidden,
Sitting on a red cushion in the corner.
Safe and warm
Whilst the music washes over her.