The Mixed-Up Poet

The Mixed-Up Poet

In a world where thoughts wouldn't hold tight,

A poet scribbled in morning's soft light.

But memories tangled, like threads left to fray,

His verses all jumbled, like night turning day.

One moment he’d write of a clear summer's morn,

Then shift to the storm that had just left him torn.

Words danced away like whispers in wind,

Leaving the poet's heart feeling pinned.

Yet in this confusion, a spark could ignite,

For each mixed-up line held a fragment of light.

Though he couldn’t recall the way stories flowed,

He found beauty in chaos, where his spirit glowed.