Am I a Poet?

Without distinct intention,
I write now, with no particular route or destination.
If I rhyme, please excuse my ploy of misconception---
I am not a poet.

For me to write with such connection
seems an illusion of affection.....for words---
Am I a poet?

Flowers grow from the earth
and words from the soul,
but neither will emerge from a farrow dust bowl.

Borrowed from my experiences are pieces of my soul,
grown green by humble moments when the words bloomed---
I have been a poet.

Now without distinct intention,
I write with the most sincere direction.
If I rhyme please excuse my garden---
For I have not weeded in years, yet my flowers grow tall.
I am a poet.