To Love Poetry

If you're the kind of person who wants the meat, and no wait.

Then poetry gives that gait.

Yeah, it's a metaphor and simile trite,

But, when is reason so contrite.

One struggles through purpose fair,

But no answers come to bare.

One has to step beyond,

Beyond whether-ed air,

Of mystery cared.

Not as lesson so easily bared,

Steps in poetry fare,

Bending concerns to wear.

Only, if there's an awareness there,

No confusion is so aired.

Simply to the words.

Must one listen to with care.

A poem may have,

For yours to ware.