Me, The Poet
A single face catches my eye in the crowd,
An urge grips me and I speak out loud
"I want to touch your life, "
People look - she's touched in the head,
She ought to go back to bed -
Needs some rest, we know what's best.
Normal people don't mutter and fuss,
While sitting alone on a bus.
Blushing, I look away
Being caught with my thoughts on display
People don't do that anymore,
Revealing their thoughts and feelings like before -
When they were children.
Now people hide behind a smile
Thinking rude thoughts all the while
They're in a rush,
They have no time
To sit and join words in a rhyme.
What are you doing with your life they ask?
Do you know that surviving is a worrisome task?
Don't waste your youth on thoughts and dreams
Painting pictures of mountains and streams.
Work, work, work, put money in the bank,
Then some day among the rich you will rank.
And people will come to touch your life,
To be your husband, (or for that matter your wife)
But I'm not a politician,
And for gain hold no ambition,
My face holds no great charm,
I can't protect the sick from harm.
How can I therefore stake my claim?
To fortune, romance, a well known name,
Could it be that one day I'll be heard?
Will people accept a poet's word?