The two young poets happened upon the old Library on the same day
When she arrived she noticed the young man off in the dark corner
Deep in thought
He noticed her as well but did not let on
She took her place near the window
Where the Sun washed that part of the room
She opened her notebook
And awaited a spark to send her on her rhyming way
She had vague ideas of a pristine palace that floated among the clouds
Atop a chunk of deep green earth
The young man was absorbed in a story of a young girl
Her life had been taken abruptly
She was halfway to the other side; the ‘in-between’
As I once heard it referenced
For she was not ready or willing to accept her death
The hours passed and as the Sun began to wane
The young girl departed
The following day she arrived to continue her work
And immediately noticed the mysterious boy in the corner
She returned to her spot by the window
In the Sun
And began working meticulously on her poem
After a short time she noticed that the poet across the room
Appeared to be finishing his work
And was preparing to leave
Her curiosity outweighed her apprehension
And she approached the fellow poet before he arose
“I couldn’t help but notice that you were working on something…
A poem perhaps?”
“Why yes;” he replied
“Would you care to read it?”
“Only if I’m not keeping you from being somewhere.
You looked about to leave.”
“I would rather be here.” he answered.
“Well, I’ll only be a minute.”
And with that she returned to her place by the window and began to read
He noticed that her beautiful smile quickly turned to a look of deep concern and discord
As she finished, she appeared shaken, almost frightened
She walked slowly back to the boy
“I didn’t care for your poem. It is much too sad. Poetry should not be sad, it should be beautiful and magical. What you see in your dreams. I’m sorry, I must be going.”
“Have you never had a nightmare?” he queried
“Yes, but I would never write a poem about it.”
“And why not? Shouldn’t something as deep and meaningful as poetry span all of our emotions, all of our fears as well as our joy? Like the perfect verse, should not our thoughts be balanced?
Would we not cheat ourselves and our audience if it were not?
Balance is the key
Sun and Moon
Day and Night
You and I"
With that she turned and left the boy
alone in the dark corner
For three days his words weighed on her
How dare he interrupt her perfect world
On the fourth day she returned to the old library
Not sure if she hoped he'd be there
Her feelings still hopelessly askew
She entered the room and felt both relief and sorrow
For the boy was not at his table
Off in that dark corner
'balance is the key...you and I'
she knows now
how those words moved her
As she turned to walk to her place near the window
She was stopped abruptly by the sight of him
Awash in Sunlight
Wearing a smile as bright as her own
Sitting, waiting at her table