3.4 - The Worry and the Worse
When I woke up this morning
Poof! A poem in my head,
But by the time I found a pen
It had already fled.
And as I stirred my coffee
Splash! A poem dropped inside.
The napkin tore under my pen,
The lovely lyrics died.
At the bus stop, half-past eight
Wham! A poem crashed with me.
No notebook. Seems I'll miss this thought.
The next time it will be.
It's night. It's cold. I'm out of breath.
I'm staring as in fear.
There is a chance I'll write today,
But what? I've no idea.
[Editor's Note: The napkin tore: the pen is mightier than the sword]