A thought can be like loose change,

Just fliting around your head.

Then you have to grab it,

And dress it with other words.

Sometimes it makes no sense,

But I let it go along for the ride.

A good poet would never do that,

But I'm not in that class, so off it goes.

I must admit not many of my poems

Are sent to the waste basket.

In fact I can't remember when I

Tossed one, as I think of them as gems.