he is my best friend
and i am his
we read pretty poetry
and examine the
intricacies of
verse
sometimes we
rehearse
the lines
on quiet afternoons
when breezes cool
our naked pores
i am his muse
and he is mine
we write ethereal
images and lose
ourselves in
surreal scenes
knowing what it
means
to be in love
with a friend
who is the sole
inspiration
for the movement
of my pen
upon the papyrus
of his heart
yet I am not free
to be with him
nor is he
to be with
me
outside our
world
of
poetry
hadassah, 2001
and i am his
we read pretty poetry
and examine the
intricacies of
verse
sometimes we
rehearse
the lines
on quiet afternoons
when breezes cool
our naked pores
i am his muse
and he is mine
we write ethereal
images and lose
ourselves in
surreal scenes
knowing what it
means
to be in love
with a friend
who is the sole
inspiration
for the movement
of my pen
upon the papyrus
of his heart
yet I am not free
to be with him
nor is he
to be with
me
outside our
world
of
poetry
hadassah, 2001
