A poem once came to me.
I was pouring water
On my infant’s fragile head.
I didn’t want to lose count
So, I let it slide, down and down
And it lay there, on the ground
Quite dead.

A poem once winked at me
Skulking beyond the shadowy shrubs
Where my child walks before being fed.
But because he must return, and
Not miss his customary turn-
I turned it into a lullaby
And wheeled it home to bed.