What do you see in my black and white?: A poem 

I may spit out an objective phrase 

like the first stroke in a game of pool 

and think it was miscued all over the place 

But you may fit it straight in the pocket 

of wisdom, like a dart hitting bullseye 

And there may be an apparition out of 

random words meant to be only poetic 

that percolate exactness like a clock’s second-hand 

I may have not earned the right to preach 

But there may be a lesson in the asking 

Even if the words first appeared disjointed 

like standalone homes with their own lives  

But you may have found a pillar apiece 

And adopted a resonance, echoing  

within you like a filament from your own life  

I didn’t hold a mirror even to myself 

But did you think I held a mirror to you 

simply by your own selective personal assumption? 

I am just a little too self-obsessed in my narrative 

But thanks for letting me know it was subjective to you 

I am not keen on igniting theatrics; but there  

could be a drama unfolding for you 

And I may conclude then that the action is packed 

in different versions in the imagination of each reading eye.