I always was a poet but I think that I forgot.
I’d overlooked to celebrate the rhyme in every thought.
I’d assumed that words escaped me but that just wasn’t the case;
I’d accidentally kept them captive, kept them in some quiet place.
Now I’m poeting my poe-hims, and my poe-hers, and poe-theys,
And the more I seem to poet, the more poems come my way.
Now I simply stagger, stumble, onto lines and onto verse.
Now the issue’s not the writing but that I need to learn more words.