Where is that poem I would write,
the one about to wait then do,
not in my mind up late last night.

Thinking of process I invite
the how, the why, the what, the who,
where is that poem I would write

I think I may, I think I might
not finish up in deadline screw,
not in my mind up late last night.

Dim and yet clear it was in sight
but later on away it flew.
Where is that poem I would write

Morning is here with sunshine bright
confirming what I know is true,
not in my mind up late last night.

Excuses tend to be quite trite
but what to say I have no clue.
Where is that poem I would write
not in my mind up late last night.

- Robert Stone, 14 October 2012