Her Hand
by Darren Stone

She sits, lost in thought.
Ha!
Unaware how I watch,
And miles away.

She struggles with another word.
"Quest," I whisper.
"Quest," she writes.

"Mention the passion," I suggest.
"Charmed passion," she writes, unsuspecting.
I must giggle at my influence.

Now I push her pen forward.
She seems suddenly inspired;
Her words foaming out of control.
She is glowing with
Thought and
Word and
Rhyme

"Tell him you love him."
Her hand stops mid-sentence.

"Tell him…"
She glances at her poetry.
She thinks of me.


Strange -
How my own verse flows tonight.
As if guided by her hand.