Poet of Mine

I describe a poet friend of mine.

Weaving a cloth,
This quilt of words,
Is all he knows to do.

He threads his needle with a line
And then stiches on a 'Q'.
Metaphors get stringed together
While similes dangle at the borders
Like frayed edges of a rag.

A simple line
May seem benign
To those
Who have not a clue.

But I,
I understand
His mutterings of magic
And places without trace of time
He speaks of life
And its beauty,
The ongoing battle of his life.

Misinterpreted,
This poet boy,
Is all alone at night.
Others call him but a fool
But they don't understand his plight.

I'll fight for you,
Poet boy.
I know just how you feel.
When there is none,
No man or child,
To help you as you go,
I'll walk you with you
To the end,
My love is everlasting.
Call me sister,
I'll be your friend,
I'll even be your darling.