Her Name Was Poetry

Her Name Was Poetry I met her when I was quite young her name was Poetry. I stood frozen in my fear as she reached inside of me. I felt the teardrops in my eyes I almost lost control. Still she never looked away and then she touched my soul. She turned me every way but loose she bid me to come nearer. She looked deep into my heart like looking in a mirror. She whispered words I could not hear they echoed in my head. Since I could not understand I felt them all instead. Somewhere I felt a guitar play I heard a drummer drumming. She told me of things to be and the man I am becoming. Next thing I knew I looked around and suddenly I'm grown. There were those that came for me but still I am alone. Days not long ago before my world was torn apart. Still I had the words she wrote still etched upon my heart. Long since gone she went away now they all look to me. I struggle underneath the weight my name is Poetry. Edwin C Hofert