Tried, I did.
I wish I may I wish I might
write a new poem for you every night.
And although I try so very hard
I can't seem to live up to the life of a bard.
I quiet my brain and I open my heart
and every night I come up with a start.
Next I begin to rhyme and riddle
I twist my words to create the middle.
But often I get stifled then.
Hung up in the struggle to form the end.
So my unfinished poem gets tossed aside,
and I go back to bed thinking, "Well, I tried."