It was one of those mornings, a little hectic
Words were barely forming, phonetic
My mind whirring at a slow mental sludge
Truth is that my thoughts would barely budge
Still, showing up for our bit of morning poetry
Is a bit of tradition at least in my small history
I believe it was maybe on Speak Like A Pirate’s Day
Or why else would I dress in this unusual way
Searching for words both original and with meaning
When the reality was I scarcely felt like a human being
The boys and I filled in around the table
Putting out poems as best as we were able
Like a pirate, I will confess what I stole from you
Were words of plunder that ended up being true
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