It matters not what we write
We check if form is right
On paper I laboriously pen
Hoping I finish this night
I write the verse and begin
To see what comes from my blend
It's hopeless I can see
One more verse and it will end
I create the second of three
I almost finish this gleefully
Mr Frost would not be glad
I've butchered his form so horribly
A fourth verse must be had
To keep the form true not bad
So I've added to my writing pad
To prove I am stark raving mad
A fourth verse must be had
To keep the form true not bad
So I've added to my writing pad
To prove I am stark raving mad
