B. Goodjoin (2018)

Yesterday’s poem was in my head—on the tip of my lips—
Didn’t quite make it to the tip of my pen.
My name was called, out of the blue, and all my thoughts flew
Like a bird, on invisible wings, to you…

You took my thoughts and made them your own.
My words on your paper had found a new home.
You penned them as quickly as they came—
Thought you were brilliant, as you signed your name.