When I heard a poem
that I apparently wrote
read back to me
over the phone
by an Irishman
in such wonderful tones

I suddenly knew that’s not me
it’s poetry
which has its own realm
it comes from a mysterious place
somewhere between mind and magic
the muses never rest
too much to share

We don’t own those words
once they are out there
in the air
they will find their own journey
resonating in minds
ready to hear

And if they sit comfortably
giving hope and encouragement
the poets will be satisfied
saying prayers
for the great gift of speech
And creativity!