I'm not really a poet and this is usually what happens to me when I attempt to write poetry, ahaha.

With pen and leaf upon her knee

She watches evening drape the sky

With colors deep and darkening

As flocks of birds drift slowly by

Delighted, her mind fast creates

The words to immortalize the sight

Her pen dances across the page

Spreading imperfection to the birds’ flight

They plummet from twilight with wings of stone

The sky blackens and crumbles to dust

Her pen falls from her hovering hand

Her page is blown away by one single gust

Sighing she casts a wistful look at the sky

Writing poetry? Well, it was worth a try.