I’d often sit on the lonely bench
In front of the bookshop, the one in town
With colourful displays of women’s fiction
And books for kids, filled with pictures
And adventures that I would never have time
To take part in myself. And I’d look at those tables
Out in the front, with books that have sold
In the thousands, the millions and been optioned
For TV and film with Leo DiCaprio in a starring role.
I would look at it like a sweet shop for kids,
Just wanting to touch each of the covers
And then I would wish that I had my place on those shelves,
My own little book with my name on the front
And a sticker that says ‘signed by the author’
And people would hurry inside to get hold
Of a copy of my work that I’d poured in my soul
And everyone would love it and critics would say
It’s the best bloody thing written this century.
I sit on my bench and sigh as I remember
That is not true and probably won’t be,
So I pull down my hat and tighten my scarf
As I move from the bench, already looking
Forward to the time when I can return to my bench
And live out that fantasy just one more time.