I must admit at least,
     I’ve no idea what to make of you.

You are unlike
any I’ve encountered before. You are wise
with a potent energy held gently
in hands that know when to hold on, to let go.

Across the miles
my soul flies to you with such magnetic force,
Momentarily without any words, I’m
beyond caught up, suspended in time with you.

I am somewhat
ordinary; yet, you recognized me, too.
I wonder – have you imagined softer side
to sharp-penned poet whose work you read, review?

     You must admit at least,
     you’ve no idea what to make of me.