I hear the claws again

Scratching at the back door,

seeking attention

At times it is insistent,

loud and obnoxious,

demanding I open up,

and devote my time anew

at other times it is plaintive

complaining of neglect,

offering a rebuke.

The scratches fade out,

drowned out by the noise

of television, work, family

but inevitably, inexorably,

they rise to prominence again.

Yes, yes...I'll let you in...

Bloody writer.

Put those scratches to paper, will you?


The End

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