Where did all the happy go

All of what I could write

is private to me

now

for now

held close like a bird

about to take wing

so, no; I can't

just write

like these fickle words

could entertain

justice

to it;

you
me

Poem I

I had a dream where I would
die young, mind misled
in the flurry of elementary
reading awards
to brilliance when in fact
average at best,
narrowed and chewed
spirit if you've got one
startle easy for
you're almost going to be
older than she ever was