One morning last year, I was enroute to work via the old reliable 4 train, and I saw this poem as part of their Poetry In Motion promotion the Metro North was running during 2003. It was one of those moments you have were everything goes silent, and you just focus on this one thing because it seems it's the only thing that even remotely matters at the time. I read it over and over and over again, it just stuck with me. I don't know who it reminded me of, maybe me, maybe people I knew, but if felt like I wrote it.

I finally tracked down a copy of that poem:

“Let Me Stop”
Jeremy Davis

I wish this po’m to oblige her, kindly,
but I shouldn’t sign my name to these words–
I should just keep admiring her qui’tly
’cause I can’t write like her beauty deserves:

my pen’s too slight to boldly show her face,
on a page too dim and pale to be kind
reflecting her eyes, shined ’neath arched brows’ lace,
easily recalled as paired polished rhyme–

by that light a bird takes flight from finger,
whistles o’er her river and limber streams,
palms aflutter o’er standing waves in her
that softly through their curvy banks careen–

but I’ll bid the bird hide and stop whistling
so she won’t catch it, annoyed at list’ning.