And I started reading a poem,
In a starry and a gloomy night,
Like an old person who retired,
Like that in the literary art,
But a young lady who has spoken,
Like the pure voice of a singing bird,
Sending letters to her gentleman,
Saying why she loves the melody,
And why would she not give it away,
Why then would I see her move further?
Is it that she is driving faster?
Or am I going in a circle?
Round, like a circle in a spiral,
Like a wheel within another wheel,
Racing through the traffic together,
Like the beats of my passionate heart,
When I see her dancing through the night,
When sand turns into a pretty pearl,
Like alchemists turn things into gold,
That is when she and I drop the pen,
How fancy does our story seem?
Will it sparkle through the seven seas?
I wrote her into a gorgeous draft,
And I await her to send letters,
And paint me an infamous portrait,
Until I finish this epic ode,
Like a carousel that is turning,
Holds her breath and smiles for a picture,
Like when I keep squiggling the period,
But then I erase it from these lines,
And I keep on talking about her,
And if anyone ever finds her,
Here, there, or another universe,
I will scamper to get her that ring,
I will ring bells of the universe,
And I will never drop this blue pen,
Until I embrace her my whole life,
And sing her this everlasting ode
I wrote you a draft”
Saturday, 5thof January 2013