A Thought Has Come
To Me At Last
It Reams Through My
Left Brain,
The Shade It Casts
Can Not Be Surpassed
By Every Shadow On
All Plains.
I-‘m Near To Putting
Pen To Sheet
And Scrawling Yellowed
Plinks,
But It-‘s Not Quite Right-
But Bleats I Think-
With Sheep-Like Clanking
Clinks.
I-‘d Move Around
To Clear My Head-
I-‘d Think That-‘d Be A Prize,
But No Matter How I Puff
Or How I Am Bled
The Room Won-‘t Accommodate
My Brain-‘s Size.
So Now I-‘m Stuck-
Swelled Head, Indeed-
Not Knowing How To Crest,
Nevertheless, I Am Sure
If I Do Do It
That
Whatever It Is
Shall Be Best