And The Words Came... Poem by Alistair Tait
And The Words Came...
Every time I make a rhyme,
It always seems to take some time.
In the search for inspiration,
It's like mental constipation.
To find the words is a trial.
No wonder it takes quite a while.
And then they come in such a rush,
To catch before they turn to mush.
With ease they turn into verse,
And save me from something far worse.
Now I'm writing my love for you,
Exactly how I wanted to.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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5/20/2024 4:53:57 AM # 1.0.0.1119
