I perched for years waiting
waiting for you to say I love you
back to me, just once (or hourly).
You did at last.
When I asked with a coy smile
Did I ever tell you I love you.
Then simply said, “I love you.”
You at last stunned me
with “I love you.”
I could die here and now
Michael Ball scrambled from daily and weekly papers through business and technical pubs. Satisfaction and feeling like a writer came through blogging and podcasting, mostly political. Born in OK and raised in rural WV, he became more citified in Manhattan and Boston. He joined the Hyde Park Poets Workshop two years ago, and will never again write a manual or help system. He has moderate success placing poems in print and online.