I was outside the pub with paper and pen
Ready to jot down a poem when
I noticed something odd happen there
As I looked around my chair
Other pieces of paper came out
And pens were dotted all about
And others were starting to jot down ideas
All lost in their worlds of hopes and fears
It seems that writing is infectious
Maybe because it always lets us
Explore all thoughts or feelings that
Would normally just be left flat
The glorious thing about poetry
Is it’s open to anyone and completely free
Flying Lemming
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-poem-a-day-project-day-53/
