A Stroke Of The Pen Poem by Myra Smith

Thoughts come to my head sometimes as I lye in bed.

I have to hurry and put them on paper before I forget what they said.

Words flow like a melody I feel like writing a song.

It might be one page short or twenty pages long.

I'm getting excited the words won't stop.

They're coming too fast; I think my brains going to pop.

I take a deep breath to slow my pace.

I feel like I've been running in a marathon race.

My palms are all sweaty my hearts starting to pound.

So many thoughts are forming I just want to write them all down.

The more I write the faster my thoughts flow.

I hope I have enough room for all these words to go.

I'm writing, I'm writing, I'm writing with intense.

It's all coming out so quickly I hope it makes sense.

No time for spell check, no time to check the grammar.

This paper is the nail and my pen is the hammer.

I'm hammering away I'm getting a rush.

If writing's a drink then I'm a lush.

It's not the finest wine or Seagram's Gin.

It's the good old fashion stroke of the pen.