you know who I mean,
words so powerful words so lean,
                                            strung together
                                  with a keen, clean lines of spoken verse.
what is the worse that could happen, bordering on the perverse,
that I could decide, with selfish pride to
end this ride and do no more poetry, 'cuz
I can't do it like that, that I did not have a childhood
set of memories that
taught me values, that I can remember,
see?,
that
way I have an excuse instead of saying EXCUSE ME,
and then not have the dignity to say to him in all humility,
thank you for what you do, for it makes me know I can
write poetry to, to right the ships
so lives will float on the surface, as words to raise the anchors then
and only then sail with the winds of hope,
and the right amount of ballast from the sands of time.
Thank you for doing it different and
teaching me I can do it different too.