This is more than a poem—
I have a crush on a poet.
Thinking about her wraps me in ribbons of purple fleece and valentine cotton.
There's something about her energy when she writes on Writco here;
She creates images of stories, but I see her at the window of its ending,
Looking at her art—and I think she is the best art ever.

The charm in her choice of words is like a scent from a flowering hydrangea.
It rains evenings and blue every time I read.
I create her face, laugh, tear with how she writes, regardless of the theme.
I know how she walks by the way she begins a poem—
A one beautiful poem she is.

She is my third place on a bad day.
She writes like she knows her worth, but I think she is worth...