The Thrill Of Being A Worm And Not A Cow

I just printed the outline to a story that I'm excited about.

There are very few feelings as good as this. It started out as a bunch of ideas, then scribblings in notebooks, now it's typed up into a structure and it's down on the page.

Now if I work really hard and with unceasing effort, it might one day become a story.

To celebrate this exciting stage, here is a short poem I wrote:

Sometimes don't you wish you had an udder?

Or that, like the worm, you could make silk?

I guess if it's a choice of one or other

I'd rather poo pashminas than be milked.