i am not a poet,

nor am i a poem.

i am not a writer,

nor a book.

i am not a painter,

nor a painting.

i am not a sculptor,

nor a sculpture,

i  am not the artist,

nor the muse.

i am an idea,

that exists

only

in your imagination

Like a stream that meanders
Cantering music sweet
Caprice treads whimsical
Lightly on her feet.

Like the wind that doesn't know
Where to gently breeze
Caprice breathes here, then there
... the air touched 'n teased.

Like the midnight stars that twinkle 
Through the darkness peer
Caprice in a wink
Appears to disappear.

Like the morning sunlight
That hides, then lights up hills
Caprice scampers up and down
Never a moment still.

Like waves and ocean tides
That ebb, rise and flow
Caprice heaves night and day..
Between her joys and woes.

Like raindrops and the rainbow
That hold the other's hand
Caprice sighs and smiles
In but a single glance.        

I wonder... if you sense her
Her murmurs, feel her warm breath
Caprice... right behind you —
Though you haven't seen her yet.

Dear, if you are cold
I will knit you a sweater
From every strand of my heart

Dear, if you are scared
I will knit another one for the monsters in your head
And together we'll hope
That the warmth will help to make the wounds hurt a little less for them
So they won't have to squeeze as hard
And they can just gently hold your hand

And then maybe
We can all hold hands together
Watch the world
And do nothing but be alive

My dear friend, if you feel like you're poetry
And the world doesn't even know their letters
I will write a book with you
From the pages of soul

Dear, if you feel alone
I'll show you that book
So you'll finally know

Will you knit a sweater for my monsters?

What if they weren't even silent
But no one cared to see where the sound came from?

What if they knew where it came from
But didn't care enough to fix it?

Oh brain
Please stop
...
I don't need anymore thoughts