The poet sits in the corner of the cafe
searching for the words to write,
these so called proper words to say.
Indeed, you're late, so I must wait
forever and a day for you.
So these are the words I eschew.
This secret hides in the corners of my mind
from so many words left so very far behind.
I long to tell you more, I sorely do
but just never know exactly what it is I should say.
All of my jumbled prose, and yet worse, the verse
always and forever seem to just get in the way.
I do hope I can indeed pen it properly today.

04/25/2002

Posted on 07/15/2010
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