The Poet In Me

9 Apr

there is a poet behind these eyes
winding up the key to my heart
so it tick tick ticks
I catch glimpses of her in old photographs
and in the mirror sometimes on Wednesdays
when the light is just right
when I close my eyes at night
I don’t see her
but she talks to me in verse
and if she speaks loudly enough
and I get out my notebook and pen
and sketch it all out as fast as I can

by the time I am done, I am no longer tired
but at least I can finally sleep


Please let me know what you think of this poem. I love comments!

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.

%d bloggers like this: