My poems gather for a reunion and recognize old friends.
Love poems twirl around the polished floor
stanza to stanza, dancing to unheard melodies.
Nature poems stroll the grounds collecting
bits of birdsong and last year’s leaves.
Nostalgic narratives swap their stories
over cookies and tea and photo albums.
Romantic poems gaze wistfully at the moon.
Haiku sit silently on yoga mats, breathing.
They pay me no notice as I make my entrance
down the grand staircase, my hand light on the balustrade.
They are orphans come of age into their own lives.