We held one of our September Short Story Writing Workshops at the Bar Convent in York, founded in 1686. It’s an old building, with lots of history and doors that we heard knocks at or that mysteriously opened with no-one there. That inspired one of our aspiring writers to pen this poem – and she happens to live in Cemetery Road! Blossom Street Convent near the Bar, Where spirits meet from near and far, And one of whom, a sprightly lass, Does much enjoy a “Writers’ Class”. Though she could freely move through brick, She likes to play her party trick, And opening the door quite wide So silently she comes inside. She sits and listens. Oh, so still, And never has to pay the bill! And when her interest sometimes drops, Why – up she gets, and out she pops.
It is her fun and now her craft
To cause disturbance and a draught. Was she a writer during life? Or just frustrated, playing wife? So when we have our “Last Encore” Will we return to have some more? Life is a puzzle, that’s for certain – Maybe there is no final curtain! Ms M.A-H., Lancashire.