A Poem for Your Pocket

 

When I'm looking for light,

I read poems.

When I'm fleeing heartache,

I write them.

Maybe I look out my window

and see some small puff-ball clouds

slowly moving across my morning sky,

or two eagles, circling,

wind-surfing the thermals.

This is your poem.

I want it to speak to

that part of your heart

that has walked many miles

to reach it.

Perhaps you don't read poetry,

thinking it a country of no resonance

for you. Perhaps, if you give it a try,

it will surprise you, connect

with a feeling, a memory,
a shared experience.

Maybe you will do a mental double-take,

realizing that words can dance,

sometimes - albeit infrequently -

so nimbly across the page,

like young Jack leaping the candlestick

all those many years ago.

This is your poem.

If it bores you, no worries.

This poem's feelings cannot be hurt.

Like the tired heart

that composed it, it has seen enough pain

to not need to go down those roads again.

Keep this poem

in your heart's pocket,

and, one day when I am gone,

come back and find

me in it

once again.

for my prompt at What's Going On - an open link to celebrate April Poetry Month.