I'm still catching my breath after talking to you. It seems I have known you forever and longer. I cannot help thinking “what now?” and “why not?” And lament that, alas, we had not met before. Unable to sleep yet again, – one more night, – I went to your pages and read your new posts But I dared not log in, lest you be there as well. Did you notice my absence or miss me at all? I saw you had written a poem for him, In which you were either chastising or spurring him on — Or perhaps (so I hope) just allaying my fears. Have you written a poem for me? Yes, I know that you did — but another, I mean. I wish to believe that, when you've had your fill Of harrying, chasing, and reeling me in, You will still feel inspired to bleed words for me.