Am I a poet? Do I know it? Am i just waiting for a sonnet? To tuck into my bonnet while I scrub the floors of my Lady's castle? Or am I impatient to receive my Haiku? Just to see it stamped into the pavement or ripped by some man's shoe? Or perhaps a good old story? To brighten my days that are blurry? Maybe a speech will do? To empower my sky to change to a lovely hue? I think I'm just waiting for you? To help me escape from my youth.