Writing A Poem

Writing a poem is like pumping air
into a bicycle tire.

Sometimes it is difficult to begin
because the pump is on a shelf somewhere.

At first it is a breeze,
the pump handle moves easily
up and down, up and down.

I am happy.

This is easy (I am thinking),
I could do this every day.

Soon I notice my temples becoming damp.
A bead of moisture tickles
down my cheek.

How many pounds of pressure does this take? That can’t be right. Won’t it explode?

Now I am puffing and straining.
These last few pounds of air are really hard.

I wish I were finished but I can’t quite seem to get that last little bit.
I don’t think it will fit.
I hope it doesn’t explode.

Writing a poem is like pumping air
into a bicycle tire.