A night rendezvous
A blushing moon in the sky;
The poet, her lover!
she lives like a poemnot to be forgotten.
ignore my wordsbecause when I write I am just being a poet.
poets they love to misbehave with words.
I told myself I would get back intowriting everydayI never promised anyone that it would…
we do it gently with pen that’s how we stir life each day
we will forever mourn for those poems which we will never write.
don’t heart or clap with each poempoets quietly fade.