Journeyman Poet Poem by C Richard Miles

Perhaps a journey jogs my hand to write;
Indoors I find no sign of lines of scansion.
The morning trek to work and back at night
Inspires for, when at home, I feel a tension.
The massed distractions of the daily grind
Should, you would think, make writing tougher
Yet when I hit the sofa and unwind,
It's then my inspiration seems to suffer
And so I scribble thoughts upon the bus
And stare out of the window, noting
All the passing souls and sights that rush
But give me something ready for reporting.
I wish I'd time to scribe my stuff at home;
If only folks would leave me well alone!