Poems are caught  like music in the air
Passing by ,they float on a light breeze
To land upon a mountain side  afar
Or in a desert hot and very bare
Written  in stranger’s dreams with seeming ease
They do not come here in a motor car
Nor ride upon a motor bike like man
But on their way to earth they love to  tease
They do  not answer on their way to where
Who knows if they want to talk or can
Oh, lines bizarre