At Edith Wharton’s house, we learned,
She wrote each day in bed.
It would have made more sense, to me,
To choose a chair instead.
Her bedroom had a lovely view
Of mountains filled with trees,
So a comfy chair with desk, I’d think,
Would more than likely please.
Of course, I’m not a novelist,
But when I am at home,
I have a favorite chair to sit in
When I write a poem.
My view is of the buildings
On York Avenue and yes,
The traffic’s very noisy,
Though I notice it much less
Than a writer with a mansion
Would allow to fill her head.
Still, at least when I start writing,
I get up and out of bed.
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