I started to write a poem
This morning inside my head.
But I got waylaid with household chores,
And don’t recall now what it said.
I think it was really intense,
Profound, you might say
If you’d had the chance to read
My forgotten verse some future day.
I’m sure the words were crisp and clean,
The rhymes so taut and strong.
But my lines are now forgotten
And my couplets are long gone.
So if the muse should visit you
While sweeping up the floor,
Stop, pause, take time to note it down,
Unless inspiration visits you no more.