A POET ONCE SAID

A storm had arrived

That moment was taken in stride

A lesson was learned

A heart burning like an urn

It was like a volcanic eruption

There was distinction in the information

Don’t worry just write the story

The mind focused on the words

Something the Poet wanted to say

The Poet thought, they had put Poetry on hold

Now the words were about to take whole

Tomorrow might be too late

It was no time to hesitate

It was the need to create

A day begins

Writing continues even after the evening sends

Poet sighting