I found a poem on the table
At first glance, I thought it just paper
Covered in words
When I looked closer,
It was written in verse

Though the author left no age, nor name
I knew they were young,
All the same
The words had their way with me
A sultry slip off the tongue
They must have been young

I wonder if she had long blond flowing hair
Or if he worked out
I felt a lot of hope went into
This literary piece
It kept me happy, the day long, at least

I took the poem home with me
I left a note in its place
It read: beautiful poem, man.
I will keep it 'safe as I can.

Maybe one day I'll leave a poem on coffee table
In a coffee house
I'll have to write one first,
No doubt it'll be worse
Than the one I found today.