Just as a rhyme was floating past
I hooked it from the hurrying stream
Before it bobbed away or sank
Or was caught in the rushes by the bank.
Other words then floated by,
Some fast some slow,
Some of great beauty,
And some waterlogged and useless.
Some were versatile and quick,
Others ponderous and heavy,
Some short but of great value,
Others long and lithe.
I hooked them out,
One by one.
Otherwise, they would have gone
Downstream and away.
I laid them on the bank,
Ready for weaving,
Waiting to be read
And, I hope, enjoyed.