2.5 - Why?
My writing buddy John and I,
Two coffees on the square.
Nice legs walk by, a pair.
John's smiling, but I cry:
"Don't you listen? What I say?"
"I'm sorry, buddy, but
My mind is in a rut.
A poem's popping up today."
Asun brings us cheese on bread.
The conversation stops.
John's ravenousness drops
Another poem in his head.
"What now? More coffee, beer or gin?"
It's a Catch-22.
John does know what to do:
A red-hot poem, coming in.
His inspiration's never dry.
He paints and writes and plays,
Creates in many ways,
While I just try, and wry, and sigh,
and cry, and die (goodbye) Why?