I am a poem person
Little verses
Not always making sense
Not always flowing
Not always connected
No end no beginning
Just a being
Fleeting
Pick me up now
read a few lines
feel the pain
tumultuous
or the mirth that bubbles
beneath
and if you dare
bring it all out to the surface
Think of me too much
and you’d disintegrate
Love me just a bit
and leave me wanting
Besides, you can always fold me up
and carry me in your wallet
because I touched you
somewhere you don’t understand
Big fat books are always left behind,
anyway.
