Shower Demons
Saturday, January 5th, 2008As I shower
Poems pour out from parts unknown,
Demanding to be shared.
Still, I linger.
Verses taunt me: “Write us down.
Your thoughts, they must be bared.”
End of shower.
Laptop beckons. Towel’s dropped.
I’m free — my poem’s been aired.
(Sara asks: What Poetry Means To Me. Now you have my answer.)
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