I almost wrote her a poem
Then I laid my pen away
Beware! The World may judge
Wise Reason will say

What care I for the comment of
Conventional fools and lauded clowns
Instinct or impulse, what's their differ?
Am I the jester, now out of bounds?

I almost wrote her a poem
I hid my thoughts instead
For fear of perhaps exposing
Long broken works of this head

What cares my heart for reasons
Nor experience and age
I have a lifetime ago forgotten
How to follow life's page

I almost wrote her a poem
Yet I bound these hands
And ******* my thoughts
Lest she understand.

And yet I believe she may.
One of these days.