The Stray
If I could write a poem about
you, what would the subject be?
And would the form be sonnet,
or something far more free?
You are so difficult to define,
the fullness of your broad world
compared to feral mine – like trying
to compact eternity.
For if I wrote, such a poem, exposing my deep
feelings, the underbelly of my purring personality,
would you play the petting part, the welcoming
lap of loving sensitivity, – alas, no such cords
to so express, nor a hand to ever use a pen,
I will pass your window again...
wondering of what might have been....
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