Train of Thought
This is a poem about ideas how they come to us and leave us just as quickly just now as eye began this piece the train of thought has left me standing at the station in confusion. The epic is gone the best poem ever to be written fled on an upper berth in the nickelodeon of time in the upper echelon of seldom just gray matters the ewer has no pitcher handles the morality of life has lost the fight.
Eye am reminded of a skit from the three stooges show when CURLY kept saying he had fodder for the mudder it was almost more than a young boy could bear to love in a heart so young the fodder of course was HAY diddle wiggle and the mudder was the pinto bay.
The elephant ears have not come back to haunt me but there is some smallish stones that work amid the flys and the insectoid types
There is no reason to cover up my handiwork now gentile reader can you guess just what this poem was about a train of thought.
