Writefully Acknowledged

Sitting at a bus stop, thinking, listening to baroque on a Walkman and writing poetry. Watching from beyond this earthly universe, mind contentedly living in another dimension. Fondly hearing music as it caressingly touches my soul, passers by curiously looking, not wanting to pry. Wondering what it is that I am writing, not a single person knowing that I am a poet, writefully acknowledged in a poet's world. Titillating personas running through my mind chasing humor up and down back alleys, hiding from many memories. Unquestionably talented, filled with creative imagination, a private little world remains a mystery to all the universe, I alone have the key to the talent God has given to me.