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