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The Birth of a Poem

He paused a moment, and stood still
 
As verses flew by, the birth of a poem
 
A smile curled his lips, a silent thrill
 
Filled his heart; and he must hurry home!
 
For pen and paper await his thoughts
 
Rhymes and phrases are racing to be written
 
Let these momentary flashes be not for naught
 
Let these beautiful lines be not forgotten!
 
He runs home, legs better not fail him now
 
As sweat furrows down his brow!
 
© F Aparici
12/20/2017

Those times when you think of some great phrase or rhyme, and you are afraid you will forget it by the time you get pen and paper (or a laptop), LOL

#2017

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