I'm curious as you do the walk;
In strange office conversations;
A flirtatious smile, an unexpected giggle;
A mile-long stroll that feels shorter now;
I wonder whether you're also waiting for a talk;
Discussion centered on us?
What are the ideas you keep to yourself?
Those that you so easily try to conceal;
Your poems' occasionally errant notions;
If you believe nobody is paying attention.
I would like to listen in on the talk;
You hide from all of these thoughts;
Which may seem insignificant to you;
As you move from hallway to hallway;
But I, the tiny fly on the wall;
Would want nothing more than to observe as you write them.
You say I'm as welcome as dew on the nib of your pen;
To watch you write of me;
Your creeping about makes my heart race;
This is not how I anticipated this journey to be;
I wanted something delicate & leisurely;
Like the tickle of a feather along my skin dragging my
All I wanted to do was bite at your grin as your words drew
All I wanted to do was drip alongside you;
The ink of my slip flowing within you;
Colliding our letters into sensuous sentences only you & I
All I wanted was to be the soft white paper that you stroked
with your pen;
While lifting & lowering it until we both fell to the ground in
a mound of poetry.
Now, as you walk the walk;
Half listening to others talk;
You now suddenly become the unexpected laugh, the flirty
As they walk the walk of a mile;
Wishing they could read your lines.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem