I am happy, yet all the same, <br />dreadfully disappointed. <br />I really, really, really love poetry- <br />and that truly scares me. <br />the thought that I, <br />the product of a long journey <br />trying to develop a rebellious, <br />anti- school, anti- learning persona, <br />could actually enjoy the monotonous <br />something- that- we- live- for: <br />school. <br />The thought that maybe, <br />just maybe, <br />all the time spent 'wasted, ' <br />doing things I thought I loved, <br />was actually time wasted. <br />I can't lie, <br />poetry smiles for me. <br />Not an ordinary smile either- <br />one of those smiles <br />that reassures you, <br />caresses your worries, <br />silences your ego, <br />amplifies your spirit. <br />It's not- so- temporary captivation of your brain <br />allows judgement without sin- <br />beautiful in nature. <br />beware; it's not always pure in intent. <br />it is the everlasting, <br />everchanging, <br />time traveler who's enticing whisper <br />you can never ignore. <br />keep your eyes wide open <br />for it's outer small appearance- <br />a shield for the vast wonders that await <br />just inside the doors. <br />don't blink- <br />you'll die before you finish the stanza. <br />I find myself <br />eyes fixed only on poetry: <br />the past, the present, the future- <br />what will never be, <br />what should always be, <br />and dreams that slipped through your fingers. <br />Suddenly I realize, <br />I am inside the Tardis of literature <br />and there is no hope for me. <br />Because <br />I really, really, really love poetry- <br />and I am happy, yet all the same, <br />dreadfully disappointed.<br /><br />Veronica Lewis<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/tardis/
