I don't know how to prove I haven't quit
To you when my intentions haven't changed
And my aspirations are still arranged
The same as they'd been with no deficit.
I might say I've taken deliberate
Steps to become a little less estranged
From my poetry dreams, though not deranged
Enough to think I could be laureate.
My hope is to grow enough to produce
Something of substance you could interact
With, something which finds its harmonic use
Each time you supply your personal fact.
And you could rest assured I tell the truth:
I dream although the shape is inexact.
A place for my poems 