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