On resuming Friday Poems
For eighteen years, a verse a week;
A verse a week or more.
A meter found, some rhymes I’d seek,
With theme like “rice” or “floor”.
And then one week I did not rhyme
(it seemed I’d other use for time);
And then a month, then half a year,
No compositions for the ear…
To once again resume the trade
With bold opions watch me wade:
I like the sound of “candle wicks”
Much more than (e.g.) “candle sticks”