I sit at my desk,

the whole house a mess,

pen gripped in my teeth,

musing.

 

Formed feelings I know,

as the words start to flow,

and I tap at the keys,

making verses.

 

Sometimes the poems spring,

from the deepness within,

some syllabic style skill,

weaving words.

 

The craft I possess,

with gymnastic prowess,

and a rhythmical rhyme.

Exhalation!

 

 

© Musing 2012

By Alexandra Carr-Malcolm