Why
do you hide from me, poetry?
When I look for you
you're not here,
when I cry out for you
you don't hear,
when I call you
you run away.
You really remind me of love,
that doesn't want masters.
Why do you hide from me,
poetry?
Like the sun behind the fog,
that you never know when it will appear,
like a comet
that quickly whizzes by,
like a feather
at the mercy of the wind,
that seems to settle on your hand
to fly away and disappear.
Why are you hiding, poetry?
Maybe it's really true
that beautiful things are not found,
they find you.

June 6, 2020