Poetry is an old friend

I wish I saw her more,

But I only see her every now and then

When

Times are getting tough

When

life is roughing me up

Or

When

I am feeling inspired and alive

Two polar opposites

That allow me to sit and jive

To the rhythmic whisper

That flows out my pen

And onto paper.

 

Long time no see,

I say to the dancer

But she just nods and gives no answer

Because she always knows how I’m feeling

Never misses a beat

As she carefully steps with my rhythm in her feet.

 

No one quite gets me

Like she does

Which is why I call Poetry

My secret love.