I didn't write poems.
I didn't have the time.
And even if I did have it
They wouldn't have rhymed.

But that was before we met
That one day, on the bus,
Since then I became a poet
Who wrote poems about us.

I still don't have the time.
And they still don't rhyme.
Yet I realized that the latter
Doesn't necesseraly matter.

Yes, my poems might be bad
And they make you feel pitty,
But at least I make you feel
Although it's not as pretty

As the love I was hoping for.
Though pitty is good too,
I won't settle with just that.
I'll keep writing poems for you

Until you'll love me back
And even if you don't
That won't hold me back
Because I'll have my poems

And that will be enough.




© Fram