My Nook

Write a poem describing the room around you.

My writing space
encases me close--
safe within the wings of dragons.
They perch atop the bookshelves
guarding the gates
to where I write.

Those shelves, holding far more than old books,
hold entire worlds, realms, lands beyond.
Within my office nook
owls and a raven peer out watchfully.
They know to protect
when I am lost in a story.

Medallions of honor line the area
above my desk, sharpened lances
reside nearby in myriad mugs.
A dormouse, hanging off a dragon's tail,
peeks out from behind yet another pile of books,
and a blue-flowered cow listens intently.

Walls of books and two desks. These
form the edges of my isle. Paper slips
with words hang and float
reminding me of this or that
lest I forget and leave a character
lost in midsentence.

The sun sets beyond the trees,
softening the pale yellow light.
Soon shadows will call and the
monitor moonlight will cast its eerie glow.
And still, I shall write
for the dragons never sleep.