Not Quite Fully-Formed

Last night, a not quite fully-formed

Poem peeked out from my brain.

I wanted to get out of bed

But sleep controlled the rein.

 

I struggled to repeat the lines,

Committing them to where

They’d lodge inside my mem’ry bank

And safely settle there.

 

Of course, I knew I should get up

And jot them in a note,

So in the morning I could look

And find the words I wrote.

 

Alas, I couldn’t follow through

And thus fell back to sleep,

The poem, all cozy, tucked back in

And nestled way down deep.