The Poet

The Poet
by Erin L George

I paint pictures with my words
for the lonely girl who is homesick
in her own backyard.

Little girl lonely
who sleeps better
in her bed alone.

My poetry is the echo
that stirs her,
and haunts her.
And so i sing for her

to her,
spinning my words round her lips
and the cobwebs
she doesnt' have the heart to brush away.

I paint wishes lost on dandelion seeds
that never grew
because someone forgot
to make it rain.

Why are you so lonley,
little girl?

I try to paint bigger -
hoping no one will notice

 the span of my arms
as i grasp for bigger,
better,
words.