We've all done it.
We've had an idea for a poem
And picked out words
But the words didn't fit
Into our idea.
But they formed something else
And we liked the shape
So we expanded the idea
Chosen by the words
That we chose.
And at the end
We sign our names
And call it our idea,
Our pride and joy,
This poem we didn't mean to write.
And when that happens
Are you the author
Or did the words write you?