Here is a prose poem:
Rasping crows used to interrupt my study days at home. They did not care. I used their warning calls as natural breaks. One of these splintered, scholarship days was particularly genial because Mum and I listened to pop music. She liked breath of life playing in my room. The song was one of my favourites. We laughed and became music critics for a while, admiring the keyboard work and the catchy chorus. I went back to work, choosing a blue biro. I wished for more music.