Verse
Some of these poems are quite insane.
How do they come into my head
I have tried to reason again and again
some enter at night as I lie in my bed
I just lie awake if I have a theme
And then I have to put pen to paper
When wanting to sleep per chance to dream
Till the verse takes up some sort of shaper
There is a new poem that is well on the way
And the first verse is surely in ink
It's about a kestrel hovering low
But just now my brain cannot think
I'll be back
Chocky
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