Robin Amy Bass

MY WORDS

I craft a poem… relax a bit
and wait for understanding
I wait to see if it’s been read
I guess I’m too demanding

It’s no-one’s job to read my poem
I know it isn’t cute
To pander for an accolade
Or give my horn a toot

And when my words fall on deaf ears
or worse than that, blind eyes
To go and fish for compliments
Is something I despise

Although I like when I am read
the thing that leaves me blue
is to be overlooked by those
who write as well as you