I sit and ponder what to write,
Something original, something trite?
Something sexual, poems of love?
One thing I know, it’ll be about us.
I write for you, I write for me.
I write of things we’ve felt and seen.
I write our chronicle, our history.
I write of what will come into being.
As I sit I ponder, what tonight?
Who knows what? But I’m certain I’ll write.