I was outside the pub with paper and pen <br />Ready to jot down a poem when <br />I noticed something odd happen there <br />As I looked around my chair <br />Other pieces of paper came out <br />And pens were dotted all about <br />And others were starting to jot down ideas <br />All lost in their worlds of hopes and fears <br />It seems that writing is infectious <br />Maybe because it always lets us <br />Explore all thoughts or feelings that <br />Would normally just be left flat <br />The glorious thing about poetry <br />Is it’s open to anyone and completely free<br /><br />Flying Lemming<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-poem-a-day-project-day-53/
