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Tangentiality of the Wordsmith
Walk some steps
On a wordpath
Until you run out
Of consonance.
Turn on a dime
For a better rhyme
And you might just craft
Something exciting
For a fraction
Of time.
How we laughed
when you wrote off a stanza
With eery exaction
In one swift motion.
Only to finish
Mid stutter
And spread the remaning butter
Over a different
Slice of ideas.
Such is the fickle nature
Of the wordsmith.
Finding loopholes
In the current stream
And riding tangent waves
With no intent
To finish sleeping off
That former dream.
Now you're sitting there
With pieces
To a million different puzzles
In one rubbled pile.
