Knowing Me In A Poem

Standing on corners, separated from each other in another part of the world. No way for us to reach or touch each other in the byways of life, so we two remain strangers, never meeting or getting to know each other. Yet, I write continually and one day you read what I have written on a page in a book. Learning who I am, knowing how I felt. As I bled my soul into a poem, you began to see who I was. Years pass by, we never do meet, I never get a glimpse of you in any way nor you of me. But you know who I am and can identify me in a poem written in a book once upon a time, reading it throughout many moments of life itself.