A blind man sits at a bus stop.
Like a knight his cane at the ready
to protect his turf from intruders.
His bus has left already.
Convinced he must wait for another,
His attention is drawn to a sound.
A poet on the street selling his verse
is speaking of loves lost and found.
The blind man requests a reason,
why none of the poets lines rhyme.
'In poetic jest I give it my best.
But sometimes I just don't know why.'
'Will you answer a question of mine?
It's fair that you answer in kind.
Please tell me true, does love affect you,
can you love what you cannot see?'
The blind man looked at the poet.
His blank orbs were strangely glowing.
When true love is near my sight becomes clear.
It relies on my heart knowing.
As a poet you should understand,
The things on which to rely.
Love is made cheap if it's beauty you seek.
Use your heart instead of your eyes.
