I was lying in bed a few nights ago, when a random idea managed to make its way through my tunnel of thoughts. My mind wanders a lot before bedtime. Sometimes of memories, books I’ve read, shows I’ve watched, or what I want to eat the next day. I seem to always formulate my best concepts during the early hours of the morning. I’m a night owl.
That particular night I was disappointed at my myself for disposing a poem I wrote a few years ago. I thought it was lousily written, so I crumbled it, and tossed it away, over a year ago. I sat in bed, staring at the wall, desperately trying to remember what I had written. All I managed to recall was that it was about breathing with new lungs. I sighed heavily, thinking, Oh well, I can write a new poem. Then, suddenly I came up with the title, my lungs are made for breathing. Anyone who suffers from cystic fibrosis knows our lungs simply suck at being lungs. Our lungs are definitely not made for breathing well, but new transplanted lungs is a different story.