At two in the morning,
As I prepare for bed,
The words for a new poem,
Form swiftly in my head.
But at nine in the morning,
When I wish to write them down,
Lost in Space are they,
They will not come tumbling down.
What were the thoughts
I had for a poem new?
I cannot remember them,
Except for the first few.
How do I write my poems,
You often ask of me?
The words just appear on paper,
For you all to see.
I speak them as I write them,
I hope that they will rhyme,
Not only in this poem,
But always, ~ time after time.
© Jonathan Goldman [JGthepoet] - 4 December 2005
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem