The inspired poetry writer

'It does have a crossword puzzle.'

'That's not the same thing at all!' replied Horace.

'That's what I said,' agreed Norma. 'But he's so keen about it and I'd pay for it for you.'

'How can anyone be keen about something that isn't poetry?' said Horace.

'Well not everybody's life revolves around poetry,' replied Norma.

And Horace was silent for a while.

'I think I might try to get a little closer to the edge,' he said eventually.

'If you must,' sighed Norma. 'And while I think of it what happened to the hat and scarf that I knitted for you for Christmas?'

'They made me feel all warm and snuggly,' relied Horace.

'That was the whole point of giving them to you!' mooed Norma.

'I know!' replied Horace. 'I couldn't possibly write anything while I was wearing them. By the way do you think there's a chance this edge could collapse?'

'Well possibly,' replied Norma.

And so Horace shuffled rather closer to the edge.

'It's still not working,' he called back to Norma.

'There are some clouds in the distance,' observed Norma. 'It could be more snow..or even rain.'

'Even so,' replied Horace, 'I still feel....well....cheerful!'

'Perhaps you could try writing something cheerful?' suggested Norma.

Horace gazed back at Norma.

'Sorry,' said Norma.

'That's OK,' replied Horace.

And he moved a little closer to the edge.