Not Quite a Poem
I admire excellence.
I want to be humble.
I love feeling free.
I appreciate order.
I don’t push myself as far as I’d like to go.
I am enormously satisfied by using leftovers.
My mother is my best friend.
I sometimes talk to myself in a British accent.
I am the oldest of five, maybe to be more.
I become giddy in the presence of a large collection of books.
Or a small collection.
I try to be perfect.
I criticize what I love and what I don’t.
I dance with enthusiasm.
I explore what I have judged to be worthy.
I read for pleasure and to better myself.
I care how others see me, but even more how I see me.
What does this mean?
What do I mean?
I wish I were a poet.