Ink on paper, flowing so free,
I scribble poems, one, two, three.
Verses pour out, without delay,
Oh my goodness, so many in a day!

Lines and stanzas, they just appear,
I can't help it, it's quite unclear.
Poems about love, and poems about cats,
Poems about this, and poems about that.

I try to stop, but then I find,
Another poem, it's on my mind.
I write and write, without much rest,
Oh dear, I fear I'm quite obsessed!

So here I am, with yet another rhyme,
I'll stop for now, I'll bide my time.
But who am I kidding, I'll pick up my pen,
And start writing poems once again!

Penned by my hand on the 10th of Phaestian, in the year 949 AF.