It Happened One Morning

It happened one morning.
I can't remember the day or time.
My writing was chaotic
and wasn't expecting a rhyme.

And, yet there it was,
simple as one plus one equals two.
I wrote down my words,
again, thinking of you.

Why the rhyming of words?
It wasn't making any sense.
I may not be the smartest,
but I know I'm not dense.

Over the years, I wrote,
as an idea popped in my head.
Words mean life to me,
they do now, as I've said.

Many years, gone by, now.
Words still flow, sometimes,
without any rush or hurry,
not even nickels or dimes.