What is the color of poetry,

I wonder at 3:00am?

While I am waiting for that dance,

For that same chance with you.

She waits for me at the edges of my life

Some ten long lonely years now.

I watch the rain, saying

"Baby, what time is it?" as I get old.

It's 3:01 and I'm just getting older

Without further gilding the Lily.

Never, ever any wiser.

I wait for life and it still passes me by

After so many long years.

It's 4:00 now in the morning

And I'm wondering what is the color of poetry?

I wait, spewing forth words on a napkin again

As I have done for years.

Lily dances slowly next to me,

Though in surreal white this time.

I wait, looking for you, and I know

In my heart of hearts

That I am not for you.

This much, I know is true.

My poetry is always white.

03/19/2007

Author's Note: To an old dancing friend.....

Posted on 03/19/2007
Copyright © 2025 Joe Cramer