did you miss my poem
up all night
on a midnight stroll
pocket full of words
spin out of control
fly free as a bird
eyes open stare
gently they fall
on the ground
every where
pen and paper swerve
written as heard
big and small
the words come down
to answer the call
the next
pen and paper flight
the story grows
another writer writes
words must stroll
beckon to write

Written by Chester Hardy III 1/4/24