"The poet, the girl, & everything's alright"

She sits enraptured at her table
that she shares with regulars and friends,
Her hands clutch the arms of her chair
as the meaning of his words set in;
the poet has taken the floor to speak
it seems his verse is just for her,
full of sweetness and miraculous things
to make her little lonely heart stir.

His eyes meet her own just briefly
but in that moment she can't help but smile
hoping that when his reading is over
he might come over and talk for awhile.
and as his poem leads into another
he gives her a look that says "hello, hi"
she tilts her head to show she's listening
while in sign language, she gives a sigh.

His time on the floor is now over
he's replaced by the next speaker of rhyme,
and he puts his folded poems into pockets
to maybe bring out some other time.
She watches his every nuance and move,
as he looks in her direction, she grins,
and walking over to her little table,
he smiles, "it's good to see you again".

She says, "I really loved that last poem",
he replies, "well here, I wrote it just for you"
and as he hands the written poetry to her
she knows in her heart it is true.
"Thank you', she says between happy tears,
'I look forward to this every week",
and in their usual ritual of affection
he leans over and kisses her cheek.

"See you next week, same time then"
he says, as she fidgets and fusses with her hair,
until her mother comes along
and puts her hands on her daughter's wheelchair.
"Come on, hon, we must get going now,
we'll come see 'your' poet again",
she smiles at the man and then whispers
"as always, thanks for being a friend."

In the library of the children's home and hospital
this is the scene one night a week,
as patients and residents all gather 'round
to hear the poets once again to speak,
and it is such a wonderful thing to see
the healing love in her young face alight
for in her mind they walk through magical worlds
the poet, the girl, and everything's alright.