by Poetry99
© 2001 Dorothy E. Scott, all rights reserved
My realm is my poetry, I forsake not.
I toss my words in a colander, now my lot.
My rough draft may seem, a mince of words, bickering.
Thoughts scatter, light bulbs in my kitchen, flickering.
The final meal I cook is a pleasing casserole for all to partake of its fill.
Visit my realm there I toss my salad fold in a draft, flakes scatter in the bowl then cook the final meal.