Poetry

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Why do I tell You things
when You say You know them.
Why do You want the words I bring,
when You’ve seen therein?

When I read the words You wrote,
I see the things You see.
It’s then I can’t help but note,
it seems You’re reading me.

I know You peek over my shoulder,
yet I don’t know why.
I’m barely aware that You’re closer,
when my spirit sighs.

I tell You things You’ve heard before
and yet You’re never bored.
For me You have much in store.
I know I’m not ignored.

When it seems I feel I know You
You come with a new surprise.
I almost sense with what’s new,
there’s joy in Your eyes.

It’s not my words that You want.
It’s other things You seek.
A little truth that I could flaunt:
You want the one who speaks.

When You peeked over my shoulder,
I dared to ask you why.
“I like it when I’m closer,
when your spirit sighs.”

© 4-13-09

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