Can I make a quick confession?
Can you keep a secret if it’s small?
I’m dead nervous to admit it,
Really shy to drop this wall.
Just now in my poetry class
Some boy just read aloud
A piece he wrote for someone
Relating his lost love to a cloud.
And to hear his words of longing
To hear this rhymed painting of his sky
Makes sitting here just listening
One long suppression of a sigh.
Cuz sure, I write poems for others
But it’s not hard; it’s just how I speak!
I guess I’m saying…well, it’d be a nice change
To be written into sunset, I think.
It’d be cool to have proof I’ve inspired
A line– No, a stanza– Nay, two!
To have someone shyly read me their heart
Then look up and say “I wrote that for you.”
I know all the ways to show love–
Ranging from flowers and rings to tattoos–
But right here, in class, it stikes me
The gift of writing, to me, is most true.