Garden Poetry Poem by Lindsay Elise

So there’s this poet in my garden.
He sits right by the willow tree.
Listening to the words I say,
As he morphs them into beauty.
I don’t know how he does it,
It’s like some magic feat,
Because what comes out from my mouth
Is much more incomplete.
The birds, they always listen
And sing to every note.
He says my words so fluently,
On every breath they dote.
The crickets also eavesdrop
Upon my newest friend.
They applaud him with their symphony
When he comes to end.
I try to go and visit him
Though oft he isn’t there.
He’s off to save some other girl,
Who of her gift is unaware.