A short poem her poet sent;
A woman, digging up the thick forest,
is trying to touch
the love of the poet.
Finally, catching an unfathomable word
and hugging it just like a puppy,
she mumbles, “this might be his confession of love?”.
Poet’s woman reads and reads and reads again
and chews and chews and chews again the word.
“No woman, no poem”,
the poet never stops singing women.
“Is this woman me?
Rummaging his myriad poems
that are more than his women,
and trying to find her image,
the woman wants to feel his love for her
Watching poet who is dreaming
in the flower garden again today,
the woman who loves the poet,
is waiting for a simple sentence, ‘
I love you’
through his sexy baritone voice,
not through his convoluted poems.