i was once told
that i would meet
someone
who would leave me
speechless
words would not capture his
smile
phrases could not express his
eyes
sentences do not share his
joy

i was once told
that upon meeting this
person
i would start writing
poetry

how right they were.

the sky looked very low today
the slate clouds hardly parted
to blue sky at all
and while onlookers
became downcast
i thought to myself
of how maybe
the one true desire
of a cloud
is to reach down
to strain to kiss
this cold hard earth.

I here,
had to entertain
the air to Paris,
covered in keys
like never before.

a city
twisted
wrapped
folded
into a crisp invitation
beckoning,
beckoning

britain
the straight satisfaction
the only good thing I wanted
I felt a joy
imagining
me going out to join them
and
i got a coat on.