Some nights, it’s hard to know what to write.
Some nights, it flows.
Some nights, you pour your heart into the words – and people don’t seem to read them.
(It’s OK that they don’t laugh at the same jokes, really. I’m still putting them in though.)
Some nights, you come home and discover
That someone in a town you know the name of (but not really the location)
Has sat and read your blog for half an hour solid.
Or that someone in a province in a country half-way round the world
Has dropped in – and come back again.
(Who told me? Kind Mr Google Analytics. I’ve started getting curious.)
I know how it feels
To sit and chew my way through someone else’s blog,
Sometimes regular bites, sometimes great gulping mouthfuls,
Night after night until the cupboard is bare.
Then it’s time to look them up on a regular basis – and maybe look for another full cupboard too.
Who knows if I am offering a ‘cupboard’ to someone else?
I can’t be sure, though I can hope a little.
Maybe, because I know the importance of finding one,
I will continue to stock the shelves,
Even if, some nights, it’s just me opening up and checking the contents.
Do keep coming. Do keep reading. We’re open all hours.