when all the words have been taken
and all the thoughts given away
that is when you'll hear me saying
i will kindly be on my way

when there is no more ink worth dipping
with paper parched in yellow dust
when all ideas end up missing
when the feeling i once had is lost

that's when i'll pack what little i have left
and say goodbye to all i know
what good is poetry to me if i can't seem
to compose another poem