Who knows the answer? Like a maniac
I’d never heard a restless heart before.
Sure it sounds funny. It is what it is.
What I hear most clearly are the sycamores
beseeching the sky with twisted lily-white limbs.
You almost came yesterday but turned away. Inside
the crowd did not notice your straight back or your hair
curling over your collar.
But I did. My arms reached for you, restless heart,
but you were so far from home.
Written with phrases heard over several days at a coffee shop. Put them together, rearrange, and somewhere inside them is a poem.