I remember a year ago
a different me was here
under this very palm
in my front lawn
with my guitar almost till dawn.
I remember the wind swaying the palm
and keeping me cool, sitting in my lawn
I was writing to you.
And that different me…
He wrote with a delayed proficiency
of a poet that had not written in years
because he didn’t find a need to,
there was nothing in his life that commanded
an inspired rhyme
nothing in his life that demanded
that he take his time
with a paper and pen
and unleash in prose where his mind had been.
But that different me in that different time
realized that this damned life could once again rhyme
and that words are beautiful as they describe
a feeling I’d lost and that you had revived.
And it came with you.
And so like the poet I was long before
I began to write poems from my heart poured
into words and lines
and different rhymes
I’d try new rhythms
and even at times
I swear I heard music
Between those lines
And they had given me life
…And it came with you.