I always seem to live on the edge of a poem
It doesn't seem to matter where I roam
Or time of day or money or its lack
Frost, Dickinson, Shakespeare, Donne -
Their words echo in my mind, I find them fun.
Unlike them I have no great words to give
Especially with a mind that's more and more a sieve
Yet while I breathe I always seem to live
On the edge of a poem.
Bill Grace
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/on-the-edge-of-a-poem/
