Was it the room full of words
I was lost within
Where you first spied me,
Between the sonnets and the free verse?
I spin yarns of fairies
And many tales of fancy.
Your tender approach so apprehensive
Thinking my words contained substance.
But it was just me being me
Pretentious at times, erudite even
Playing with words and random ideas.
When you spoke I took notice
Turning my gaze from within
And looking out saw compassion.
You reach out to so many
I stand in awe;
You have an audience who needs you
Whilst I write for any idle mind.
But when your words flow my way
I listen, spellbound.
I am addicted to you
As each day, your words melt my heart.