Last night I wrote a poem on my mind
didn`t write it down on paper as it was like a spring flower
coming from the darkness of my awareness.
All I had to do was to get up in the morning and
write my masterpiece down; it didn`t happen there
must have been night frost the flower gone?
I have struggled to remember it although I`m aware
That few if any are going to read it and for me it
doesn`t matter I`m perfectly able to enjoy what
I write without admiring myself too greatly.