Poems live and breathe. They can be picked up and held – sometimes at your peril. A poem may walk agreeably alongside you or may pounce from behind a fountain. It may crawl inside your ear while you’re daydreaming and burrow into your brain.
Poems live and breathe. They can be picked up and held – sometimes at your peril. A poem may walk agreeably alongside you or may pounce from behind a fountain. It may crawl inside your ear while you’re daydreaming and burrow into your brain.
Janis Freegard's Weblog 
This sounds like a little poem series unto itself!
They remind you when they need feeding, even if you’re low on the preferred food, which is kind of them, I guess.
What I hate is when they up and disappear, and you’re really really scared they’ve gone forever.