Gone with the Wind

Waiting for the next stirring of the muse,
Hands together, pleading for something fresh,
Waiting for the idea, begging for inspiration,
And then the form – just as important, she said.
So who was it decided it had to be fourteen lines
With alternate lines a rhyme and four-four time? 
Crescendo, rallantando and tempo rabato
Developing the theme in stanzas equal in length,
To the coda and finale – unforgettably memorable
With tympanic rolls and a clash of cymbals.
Only to find it was the dust-bin lid
Rolling round the close with scraps of paper
Lifted by the wind – a poem in the making lost
As he goes to clear up the scattered litter.

February 2013