4When My Friend, 'The Poem' Visits
Why is it that I sit in here,
Trying to get all my thoughts sorted and cleared?
These thoughts just linger in my head like this,
And I listen to them instead of playing in the outside world of bliss.
My friend "the poem" enters my mind,
She says "hello" and she tells her enchanting tales of time.
I listen patiently to her words,
They have enthusiasm, fear, happiness, and hurt.
I love my friend, for she is very imaginative,
Not the ordinary 'conscience' who is too inquisitive.
"The Poem" works by instinct, and only that alone,
She doesn't question things too much only to end up with nothing at all.
My friend visits very often, to share with me her joy,
And I talk to her as a person, not merely a pretend toy.
One day, I hope, she and I will meet,
Beyond the face of the Earth, and beyond infinity.