Where did they come from?
This masive volume of words
would fill many books,

yet they flow from my
brain in staggering numbers;
coming down the line

and into my pen
to meet the demand that I
had imposed on it:

A word factory
producing meter and rhyme
faster than I write.

("She can't take much more!
The engines are gonna blow!"
Mr. Scotty screams

loudly in my brain.
"Warp speed," the Muse intones, for
she's the one in charge.)

Thirteen hundred now.
A conveyor belt of
words that doesn't end.

From what I can see,
the supply's neverending.
I really don't mind.

I like what I do.
I wouldn't trade this job for
nothing in the world!

I AM MOST GRATEFUL
BECAUSE *YOU* READ THE POEMS
I PUT BEFORE YOU.

(All thirteen hundred.)

*grins*

*THANK YOU!!!!!*

(c) 2005, Karla Dorman.