Our visit begins with a cup of tea for him and a cup of cocoa for me. I am sure he would prefer tea, although I don’t know how to make tea or what kind he will like. But since he is English, tea must be his drink of choice. We walk throughout the Lake District in England, gathering inspiration as we glide through marsh and grass. Sucking in the green, lush landscape and I completely understand why he loves this land and how he found his inspiration here. I ask him how he could go on after his parents had died within five years of each other. How did he begin his artistry? How did he clear his mind to allow his thoughts to come through? Was he down at times? Which poem did he love best and why did he write mostly poetry and prose? Why not short stories or novels? Where his ideas scattered? Did he want to expound more on them? I would tell him why “I Wandered Lonely as a Cloud” is one of my favorite poems ever. I would tell him of the perfect clarity that picture brings to my mind. I would ask how he could write poetry, when I can’t seem to get two words to rhyme without it sounding ridiculous. I would ask him every writing question, I have ever had and then be quiet and listen. I would try to soak in his experience and knowledge and take it home with me, to embark on my newest project. William Wordsworth would be my teacher and one of the greatest visits of my life.