I sit at my table, pen in my hand,
Thinking what to write on the paper--
Maybe my favorite time of the year?
The fall, with football and cool weather,
The start of a new season, seeing old friends,
Or maybe the time my family came close to death--
Tossed across the jagged Earth and close to the sea
Beat up, bloody, and heart racing--
Knowing I cannot go wrong, an idea in my head--
What if my work was about my work?
A poem inside a poem--
Now that would make the mind think a bit!
Like dreaming within dreaming--
These lines are read about the lines being made.
It may be hard to understand,
But the story of this poem is this poem.