The Night Poetry Knocked

It was such a night when
Poetry came knocking at my door
The crevices were laden with musings
And piers sodden with rhymes
To the core.

He bemused with an uncanny smile
Made of metaphors and hint of a lie
And truths brutal,wrapped in verses
I laughed with a few,some made me cry.

He recited to me the colour of summer
And we pondered over why love hurts
Few reminded of battles and bloodshed
Few just spoke of a world that was.

I was awed and raged,in spirits again
And some would repel,yet felt alive
And as day broke and mundane struck
Consoled myself,solace,another time.
-dp