Half

 A mood is half a poem

In itself is a poem without words

And many a time I've luxuriated, lazily in that languid frame of mind

Leisurely loquacious, 

Lolloping lovingly over lines

Floating weeks above a keyboard 

But when falling fingers finally come down to land,

They find they are only able to forge

Half a poem

For they've found the words

and weighed them,

But the migrating mood has moved

Moved on from the mind

So I'm afraid this half 

Will have to do,

For you.