Crosshatched

She starts out with one idea,
lays down a set of words
in seven neat lines,
but, somehow,
they do not gel.

She turns her thoughts
sideways;
tries another five lines,
but it’s still not
what she was looking for.

So she goes off
at a tangent;
writing about the fact
that she cannot write
what she wanted,
and suddenly
the layers come together;
there is a pattern
and a poem.