Poetry stood at my door
Poetry stood at my door
A beautiful Poetry stood at my door
But like every beauty
She had her tantrums galore
She expected me to know
Without her knocking the door
She waited alI day
but refused to push the door.
I scratched my head all day
But she never entered my home
And went far away
Into an oblivion unknown.
Finally I also gave up trying,
and felt pretty bored
and just to refresh my mind,
I opened the windows and doors
On the moon she was dancing
And with the gentle winds
played her melodious lore.
Her angelic beauty was enchanting
I invented new similes; praised her in metaphors
She too no longer waited
And happily entered my core.
