Before this poem,
the light was off.
I silently cried,
as stars melted down my cheeks.
This poem isn't profound.
I heard its whisper
in a crowded bar,
where the people gave a glimpse,
to the magic of oblivion.
I smiled as it yelled
at me,
from a clapping audience.
It has met me in a
sun soaked port,
where the sun allayed my fears,
and the ocean consoled my tears.
Now, it sits beside
me.
I speak with it,
and it shows me...
it's showing me...
to make the dark,
in a silhouetted past,
disappear.
The swirl of events,
makes me smile,
shiver.
And so the poem's words weave magic.
The next I love you will be my first.
23/08/01