In the last week we cleared my mother in law's house. This is the biographical account of her favourite room and her favourite chair. I pray the reader will forgive a little self-indulgent nostalgia.
This poem merges the endless rotation of our planet with one or two of the 'spins' upon which some depend.
This was a wandering journey in my mind, but the theme was based on a Seventies Christian rock star who had a track that was entitled 'Why should the Devil have all the good music?'