Here is my hand,
held out to you,
my curtsy or bow,
if you like.
Namaste.
Here, too, is my apology,
for a poem unwritten.
I could bake you
a chocolate cake,
decorated with raspberries,
filled with raspberry liqueur,
and dark chocolate frosting
or sing you a song.

What is a woman to do
taking in all the world in one city -
all symphonies in The Cleveland Orchestra,
all music ever written in Hungarian dances by Brahms,
every pianist in one Emanuel Ax,
all pianos in Peter's soul-filled piano,
every conversation in one conversation?
While time may be a concept, last night
my body turned into a sleeping pumpkin.
Pumpkins can't write.
I woke up a refreshed woman -
no longer a gourd -
a woman ready to take in all the world!

Here is one poem.
with some poems in it -
wheel barrels,
nests in beards,
how do I love thee.
Move letters around;
you will find them.

In the mean time,
I give you my hand,
my curtsy or bow,
if you like. 
Namaste.
I'll sing you my songs,
bake you a dark chocolate raspberry cake
because... you read my poetry.
Thank you for reading my poetry!
I promise to find my voice.
I am finding my voice...

May be one day...
one of my poems will
have all the poems of the world in it.