The Ramblings of a Poem.

                                                       Hi! You there! Yes you!

Taking up the time to read me,

Well, bless you!

I am the words that you’re reading,

The emotions that you’re feeling,

                                                The thoughts that you’re reeling,

And the joy that you’re beaming.

I am the poem, talking to you, my reader.

I won’t be mystical,

I won’t hide myself in convoluted sentences,

I’ll open myself up to you,

I won’t be a preacher.

I won’t talk of love or loss or death or life,

I’ll just sit there and talk to you,

I think that’ll suffice.

I’ll listen to you, I’ll paint all that you see,

Oh reader, I’ll read you; if you promise to love me.

                                                             But, would you?

Would you still love me?

For a chaos of words that I am.

I’m afraid,

My purpose and meaning are all over the place,

If I could just trust you,

Would you be my solace?

                                                      Would you still love me?

If I couldn’t rhyme,

If the words made sense and not music,

Would that be a crime?

                                                       Would you still love me?

When you know that I’m not yours.

Although, I was bled through someone else’s pen,

Would you try to make me yours?

                                                             Would you now?

Would you still love me?

For all my flaws and imperfections.

After all my rambling,

If you say that you do,

Then maybe the poet got me all wrong,

Because I’m quite sure I belong with you.