May I Have A Word With You?

May I have a word with? 

I turn to look around. 

No one in the room with me, 

no one to make a sound. 

I am not frightened by the voice, 

seeing it as soft and warm. 

I simply wonder who to answer, 

who speaks with such good charm? 

I go back to my writing, 

as I was before the sound. 

Scribbling small poetry, 

losing worries by the pound. 

All day I struggle with my words, 

at least the ones inside. 

You think they'd know their way around, 

since my mind's where they reside. 

Like echos in a cave,

they grow into the dark, 

that is until they find their place, 

and leave their little mark. 

They exit from my mind,

and stamp themselves in poetry. 

Words all lined up in verse, 

my thoughts they now make sense to me. 

Layed out nice and neat, 

accompanied by imagery. 

Poetry enters the room, 

and asks to have a word with me.