Poetry is like falling off a cliff

And half way down you think of a poem.

And before you meet the bottom

The poem has been embedded in your mind.

Or it can be like a bicycle ride

On a sunny day and a thought

Comes out of the blue for a poem.

And as you peddle it now takes shape.

You never know when a poem

Will materialize, be ready when it does.

You may not have pen and paper,

But the outline can be remembered.