The Reluctant Poet

Though I may not have a story to tell 

And life is full and happy

My history did not start out so sweet.

At first poetic words were a way to express my emotions

For I could never write a book you see. 

But eventually these words that flew out

Turned out to be therapy for me.

So my freshman year I took poetry 101, 

And found myself in love.

102 soon followed

And my love only grew. 

I found however, without sadness in my life

The words did not flow so free. 

Why were the muses that of doubt and dispair?

The high school angst was true and fierce.

And so my words reflected.

But adult life has brought me joy and love. 

And the desire to write my poetry subsided. 

They say artists are the saddest deep down

And perhaps that indeed is true. 

Because even with all the talent and experiance. 

Poetry left my hands, the moment I met you.