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
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