Poetry is a friend that I have only just met.
We are still somewhat tentatively getting to know each other,
Yet this is turning out to be a fast friendship.
I can confide in the page without reservation or embarrassment,
And the page listens brilliantly, withholding its judgments.
Instead, I am encouraged to let my fingers fly,
Forming the words that have been stormily swirling in my mind,
But those which I have been too apprehensive to share aloud.
Consistently, poetry proves itself to be a patient yet challenging friend,
Leading me to delve beyond my emotional shallows,
Forcing me to expand my creative capacity.
Poetry points out my boundaries,
Then drives me out of them calmly yet firmly,
Into territories I previously did not let myself explore.