This Story
This story has chosen
To seek me out.
It's hanging by
As if wanting a companion
Its whisperings
Are in strangely familiar
Tongues,
Speaking to me
Or perhaps about me.
I feel it's timbre.
The sympathies of a kindred spirit
A friendly phantasmas
Breathing within me,
But novel
And not simply of my making.
Today this narrative
Is happy to be mine
Willing to be given
My fresh take
And with attentive touch
Happy to be making, with me
This new outing.