I always know
when poetry enters my soul.
I do not know it by sounds,
a sagging door,
the metal to metal squeak
that announces an entrance.

It the the sultry dance
words do, as they seek
me, tempt  me to write more,
having made their rounds
again, crawling across my soul,
my carpeted emotions, I always know.

those rhythms,
patterns,
the come to me
dance moves,
and their bump
and grind,
will win.
I will write.
I always do.

I write them
on impulsive lines,
for it is romance
they seek while I
celebrate love
for them
and their dance.