A whiff of inspiration wafts to uplift
My spirits and inspire me to write,
Until which I’ve sat placid and adrift,
But once my poem’s begun, it sails along
Propelled by gusts of notions from beyond,
Mysteriously emerging into song
As if proceeding from a magic wand.
Then at its turn, right here, it reckons how,
With only six lines left it might complete
Its train of thought before it takes its bow,
Its auditors delighted by my feat.
Yet now I must remind myself that you
Wish I some better topic would pursue.