It begins with abstracted thought

That prose alone cannot extract.

That only gains it’s flowing life

Through the play of poetic art.

Teasing it into lines and verse,

Playing "chase the lady" with rhyme.

Dancing with footfalls of rhythm

Building patterns in the mind.

‘Till it’s delighting to the eye

And the jury of my ear

Carefully crafted and woven.

My thoughts becoming clear.

But, I�?/EM>