what’s a poem when
you’re around? non-
existent when there’s
you. a presence upon
which to live. what’s
a thing of beauty when
you’re around? i say
you, and am done with
that question. next
question. where are
you? it is clear to these
senses. not here. but
rather than be miserable
(where might i find you,
dear, oh where?), i plug
myself into every moment
wherein i was if even for
a split second in your fair
presence. what’s a love
poem when you are near,
my dear? i know, i know,
they shall never know,
such odious odes, for
they bore the wits right
out from your most awe-
inspiring aura. it is non
sense to even utter a
word in your presence,
you’d yawn, or worse,
you’d frown. oh, why
sense to even utter a
word in your presence,
you’d yawn, or worse,
you’d frown. oh, why
am i so suddenly down,
i wonder . . . . . . . . .?
