He came baring gifts.

The postman brought me a rare treat today, the new issue of Sarasvati which has six of my poems between it's glossy covers. There can be no better feeling for a writer, in any medium when you actually see your words in print, and realise at least someone appreciates what you have committed to the page. And for a while you can allow yourself to feel a little proud. Although the realisation that actual people can now read it without your permission is slightly scary, but I guess thats the price you have to pay for giving this writing lark a go. Criticism, unfriendly, unsubjective criticism from people who are not out so spare your feelings, like friends and family might be tempted to do. Although I am lucky enough to have a very good friend who will tell me when it's shit, hard to take yes, but necessary I think. And I thank him for that, especially when he actually likes something, you feel it might be half decent after all. But thats another story for another day. So for now I might just allow myself to enjoy the moment and move to the next set of poems which are yet to be written but hopefully reside somewhere in my head, aching to get out.