Birth of a Poet

Between the rattling shelves of library books
cross legged on the ratty blue carpet
stained with the wheel skids of the returns cart
peacefully sat a tiny girl, surrounded in books

of adventures and fantasies, of pirates and treasure
but the real gem was really gold, a delicate
gracefully bound book of poetry by the mystical
poets of the century woven with the silver lace

of the moon and the stars. As she sat so quietly
her mind drifted into the daydreams, began forming
words where they were not before as a new poem created
itself, ready to set fire to the wick and begin

the birth of a poet.