Falling in love with a poet
is like opening a music box
and hoping the music will never stop;
it will never grow old;
leaving the lid open
and hoping the fabric will never mold
as you watch the ballerina spin.
Falling in love is like risking what’s within
to be what you expect
when it opens up;
it’s a lesson in whether the music
will ever be enough,
or if you’ll tear apart the gears
looking for the heart inside
and stop the music
in attempts to understand the rhythm.
A poet is not a given melody
and if you wind the key too tightly
you’d better expect
a flood of sound.
Falling in love is like spinning around
and hoping that when your feet find ground
a poet will know what to say
Poetry is a lesson in winning
a treasure you may never open,
or having one token left
when you leave the park.
Falling in love
is trading the future
for where you are.