Sunday, July 16, 2017


                  Quite often when I’d say that I was musing,
                  You’d look at me and say, “No, you’re just snoozing:
                  Although you’ve got a lap pad on your lap
                  And pen in hand, it looks more like a nap,”
                  Well, I’ll admit I may drift off a bit,
                  But that’s my way of sharpening my wit,
                  For when I’ve entered dreamland I may see
                  The path toward where my poem aims to be
                  And make what’s now subconscious manifest,
                  As if
my questing mind had been Muse-blessed.
                  So leave me be that I may comtemplate
                  A better verse than this, but one that’s great,
                      For surely if I practice long enough
                      I’ll grow the skills to smooth out what’s now rough.