I heard a poem crying.
It was flying through the air.
So I asked if I could hold it and it said it didn’t care.
It told me it was lonely for it didn’t have a poet.
It told me “No one cares”
I said “I wouldn’t know.”
It didn’t have a title,
All its words were torn ‘tatter.
It said “No one likes poetry
I said “It doesn’t matter.”
It doesn’t matter if you reach a thousand or only a few.
You see – Before I heard your cry .. I too was lonely.