Flower-field minds

fastened to inkwell hearts

fingers meant to dog-ear,

and the inefficacy to speak

folly-natured metaphors

wrapped in illogical similes,

and a fondness for the little things

They walk in free verse and breathe in prose

with the capacity to fall in love a million times

And all they ask for is to be forgiven

for all the years they spent writing about   y o u