Birth of a Poem

Birth of a Poem


Stay near, just a while, imprint your words
upon my fingers.  Do not leave just yet.  Stay.
I closed my eyes to keep you near ‘til time to fully wake.
But when my eyes did open, you slipped away.

And now, it is the end of the day.  Children in bed,
I sit, hoping for your return. Come back to me.
Now, while my fingers are tapping the keys,
this is when I need you here.  Where can you be?

I will type anyway.  Just in case you find me, I'll be ready.
Soon, my fingers take off and I know you are here.
Not the dream you were this morning, but so clear,
the pictures you bring.  I write with urgency for fear

your elusive nature cannot remain, and I know
I have no right to capture you, to put you in a cage.
Dreams and fickle souls just don’t work that way.
So I must learn to be still, to listen, write, and wait.

Perhaps your fleeting image from my waking dream
is not a sign you’ve taken leave.  I've nothing to mourn,
if its only the promise of your return, an urging to perform
the ritual to prepare for a poem to be born.

Brandy
Response poem for Journey Class -Fall 2009