Poetry

Poetry is my beloved

Who

At times

I forget to feed

Not because of spite

But the fear

That my words won't bring anything nutritious

Poetry is my sail

And when the wind is low I give up

But what I must start remembering

Is That gusts come when you least expect it

As long as your prepared

Poetry is my dear

Dear friend

Who has seen the depths of my despair

And the height of my highs

Not asking for anything

But to dance

in whatever way is fitting