I read you my poem.
I knew you wouldn’t understand
but read it anyway,
like a child wanting
a pat on the head
a smile
a thumbs up
a high-five:
I’m not particular about the ways praise
can find me.
You looked baffled, asked
what I plan to do with a
box full of writing.
Asked if any of it was
worth saving.
Long ago you taught me the rule:
when someone gives you a gift,
you smile
and say thank you.
It was so long ago
I'm sure you have just
forgotten?
Awww. Been there. Just remember, many more people appreciate your box full of writing than don't.
ReplyDeleteAnd I'm one of them. I wish I had read more of them -- but I know the writer and that's good enough for me.
ReplyDeletePeace ...