This morning I was sitting on my garden bench, composing in the lavender, when to my surprise I saw that my spoken words were floating above my head... As I watched they began drifting away like soap bubbles over the hills and far away... I noticed guiltily that an apostrophe was missing, and that I had used too many adjectives...
I was quite appalled to see my naked verse trapesing across the English countryside quite unclothed...
I thought perhaps I should try to catch them with a butterfly net but I doubted I could walk so far...I wondered with a chill if some unscrupulous thief might try to steal them and keep them for his own, locked away in the attic of his London townhouse... I imagined my words bumping against rafters, bouncing about the walls, sniffing around a windowsill trying to find some way out...
Where were they going?
They seemed to know...
Were they answering some distant sirens song that only they could hear?
Like a unicorn which lays its ivory head into the chaste lap of a voluptuous virgin...
If only I could follow I would know the truth! But I can only sit here under the blue, blue sky and wonder...

By Charles Indigo Longfellow...