I Should've Been A Poet

Maybe,

I should've been a poet

The kind of poet, 

Whose pen will rise in the honor of words praising you.

Speaking of you,

The words will never be in vain,

The emotions bound by you,

Won't let either me or the ink to drain.

Keeping quiet,

And not uttering a single word,

Letting the pen speak for me,

Won't be absurd.

With all those words of mine,

I hope,

You have a smile on your face,

Bending the knee in front of you,

The pen calls you "MY GRACE"

One day, 

When I turn to ashes in dirt,

My Grace,

The poetry will speak of you to the world.

And,

Before turning to ashes,

The last of me will make sure,

That everything about you is said,

Maybe,

I should've been a poet.