I’m headed to the National Young Writers Festival and Critical Animals in Newcastle today to enjoy the festivities. Perhaps a small part of being a writer is entering that community and being accepted?
Og carve rocks.
Alone in cave.
Og carve friends.
Deer.
Bird.
Even Lion.
But Og still lonely.
Og search for new rocks.
Og will make more
Till Og is happy.
Og find purple rock.
Og run hand over rock.
But rock has soft bit.
A hand.
Og’s eyes follow hand.
Arm.
Shoulder.
Neck.
Face.
Says his name is Ug.
Ug carve rocks too.
freyawrightbrough 