I met a man last night.
I don’t meet him every day.
Well in fact I do you see,
meet him most every day
but often in a different way.
I met a man last night,
with hair an ancient shade.
With sparkling eyes that shine,
in a loving, gentle way.
I met a man last night and
met him in that way.
Today I expect I might,
meet with him again.
And you will also meet him,
and meet him from within.
Because if we are lucky
he will share his heart with us.
And send another poem
of love and faith and trust.
So which meeting is the better?
The one in flesh and blood,
or reading all the poems,
which his heart oft’ sends to us.
It doesn’t really matter
Its all the same you see,
because not any discord
‘tween his heart and tongue has he,
It really doesn’t matter which part
you get to see.
Oh, my dear friend
please don’t worry,
as I think your kindness might,
don’t think that perhaps I’m tired,
sitting long into the night,
thinking deep, and finding words to type.
They were written in an instant
because my friend, my friend indeed,
they came straight from the heart
and not this mind that thinks it’s me.
David Taylor
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/my-ph-friend/
