Poetry? No, that's not me.
Words that way, long history.
Well, why not give it a try?
I think I will with this new guy.
Forward I'm reaching to great
Yet clearly inclined to flee.
Stumbling and fumbling for words,
I turn to go, but some shared chord.
Amidst the fluster I feel,
Somehow okay to be real.
And if this first take, or view
WIthout words, were colors, hues.
Many shades bright, some grey too
I'm left wondering "Who are you?"
And in a good kind of way,
Instead of leaving, I stay.