Perhaps we start
Poetry at an
Early age
With the rhythmic
Sound of
Ma ma
Da da
And continue
Throughout our
Childhood
Use your words
Perhaps that was
One of the
Best Things
Said to us

My coworker left
An extra napkin
On the table
For me
Perhaps that is
The best thing
She could have
Done
As I picked
Up my pen
And began
Writing

seeing you in the front row
couldn't help but to stare

saw a weird reflection in you
but you had too much of a glare

thinking of makin' a move
then you left without a clue

thought it was just a vacation
was fooled by my own imagination

outta my mind,
saw you online

you never posted nothing
but always seen mine

could this be any more,
or I am just paranoid?

In the light from the screen,
I saw your silhouette

deeply immersed on what's written,
with hair slipped hanging on your face

saw light shining those little vines,
that twisted like a ripe vine

face glimmering by that soft light,
glowing like a kindle in a firelight

your swinging chair produced a sound,
like a nightingale on a winter dusk

and fingers tapping those little keys,
whose clicking filled the air around

and as I inhaled them,
I felt resurrected.

you never asked to read my poetry
maybe that was the sign.
i told you i wrote for fun,
you shrugged and moved on.