I am locked here, blinking cursor
and fingers twitching, attempting
to conjure up some kind of
pome to succeed in the tasks.
Though I am in a struggle with
the heat of the Sun today, I must
still plow on through (wish it
were snow) and perpetrate
a whole load of verse, wordage
and verbiage from the age of
creations. Opening a portal
to the place beyond the prose
and pulling metre in litres
of lines and rhymes. Nice.