I Forgot
I forgot.
When was it
the word withered
the phrases fled?
When did vigilance for the lines
crumble laxly into the air.
Was it when I, unfaithful
to my craft, forgot to work;
in nonchalance to practice;
lost nose to the grindstone.
I thought, poetic as I was,
the majestic write would
upon me light like
pollen in the breeze.
Write it down, when it comes.
I'll bet that's what Dr. Seuss did.
Kathryn Collins
May 8, 20016
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