I'm going to write a little poem,
And make no one happy but me.
I'll let the words flow,
And just let go,
And let my mind wander free.

Now there's a sudden burst of confusion;
That draws me away what I write.
So I hold those thoughts that are coming
The time for a poem is not right.

When I return to what I was writing,
The words are simply gone.
The idea is there with words to spare
But the rhythm is terribly wrong.

So much for being poetic,
The threads of my thoughts have been lost.
How can a poem have an ending,
When my mind for the moment takes pause.

L.S.B.