A storm had arrived
That moment was taken in stride
A lesson was learned
A heart burning like an urn
It was like a volcanic eruption
There was distinction in the information
Don’t worry just write the story
The mind focused on the words
Something the Poet wanted to say
The Poet thought, they had put Poetry on hold
Now the words were about to take whole
Tomorrow might be too late
It was no time to hesitate
It was the need to create
A day begins
Writing continues even after the evening ends
Poet sighting