What should I write a poem about?
The vast, blue sky, or the African drought?
Dreams I’ve had, wishes I’ve made,
A solar eclipse or games I’ve played?
Days I’ve spent typing away.
Grown and wilted, the flowers of May.
A beautiful dress on a lovely girl,
Or butterfly wings about to unfurl?
Galaxies beyond our reaches
Shining Sun, or sandy beaches?
The Summer break has come and gone.
Maybe the rabbit out on the lawn?
The lightening flashes upon the storm.
My eyes light up, my mind’s a swarm.
I know what I’ll write! Now it’s so clear!
And just when I think I’m going to cheer…
The page in front of me once was blank,
Now filled with words of the highest rank.
I thought before just to scrap it all
But now I know, in the arms of Fall,
This is my poem, twelve point font,
This is the one, the one I want.
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