One Day

One day, when the words drop into my head
Like scree sliding into a lake,
The phrases splashing loud and true
And straight to the heart,
I’ll stir myself
From where I am
(Probably in bed)
And write them down,
Make a poem from them rather
Than thinking “this is good”
And going back to sleep, and let
The words dissolve, as does a dream
Before I’ve pulled the curtain.
How many poems have escaped
This way I wonder?
I really should stir myself.
Perhaps one day, I will, but
I won’t hold my breath.



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