Her wide rim glasses gave her away.
Long white hair and a soft face,
a wide contrast from the one
I was expecting.
Though they both held the
permanently risen eyebrows,
a sure sign of a poet,
She wasn't the laureate
with the short hair and daring face.
She told stories of trespassing.
She spoke as though
her life was that of an adventurer,
convincing us through
clever thoughts and rhyming words.
I listened,
almost unsure because I was
waiting for Star,
Not realizing I was missing one.
Cheesy ending because the lady I was there to listen to's name was Star.
I love poetry readings.
***
