The pages stick together – what a slob
am I, upending dishes on my books
and wiping up the mess with soggy notes.
Ideas comes to me like root beer floats;
I toss my thoughts into a pot – what cooks
may be gourmet, or some god-awful blob.
To write, there is no perfect recipe:
take time and effort, talent too – then add
some wit, or drama, truth or tales, and love;
mix in suspense or fantasy and shove
it all into a blender with a tad
of ripe imagination – and you'll see
that from the chaos of one's mind, a feast
is made (or some impressive mash, at least).