The Reader Poem by David Beckham

STRUCK WITH GRIEF, S/HE PICKS A POEM TO READ, BUT FINDS ITS CONTENT A BIT HARD TO ASSIMILATE
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I hear you have a thing with words
So I pick up your poem that's titled, 'Grief'
But the things you write sounds so absurd
I miss the point, and I start to drift

My heart aches and now I need your words
There's a healing in your words that I long to get
Words are like the sounds of music
They bringing me to moments of joy and tears

I have read your poems over and over
Not a verse in there, can heal my grief
The language; so strange
The meaning; am lost
But there's nothing more healing, I hear, than reading your poems

So now this poetry, no sense to me
My grief still here, it abates, no way
What more, do I, to find solace?
Maybe I call, so you translate?

My heart hangs to every verse you write
Not this time though, I can not connect
Over and over I read your, 'Grief'
Never to stop, till I relate?

It be that this art so strange and beautiful
But not all who have eyes can see a thing
Nor all those who have ears can hear your words
A monkey's not cute, but not so it mothers think

Beauty always, is in the eyes of the beholder!

The End