Clean Your Fridge

I wonder where this rhyme will go, a random walk among the words. I’d contemplate, but here’s the thing: spontaneous is better, though. To plan it out is for the birds; unhitch the mind and let it sing. I do suppose if I thought more, it would be worth the time incurred, and masterpieces would unfold, but sometimes that feels like a chore, so I just keep the yogurt stirred, and skim off any spots of mold. Now that’s a bit unusual; it’s likely now you are confused, and think I missed the mark a smidge. No, I am not delusional; I just lean on a deranged muse. To write a poem, clean your fridge. ---------- A Sestet, with stanzas of 8a:8b:8c:8a:8b:8c