Imprint. (poetry by moi).

What is it 
I would say
if I could

that I loved you always?
that I never knew?
that you rolled upon me
like thunder, delicate like dew?

Inspiration comes 

and goes
To places and from 

we cannot know

However, some things
can't be removed.
images burned 

into wood.

I really feel that the writer/creator in me is dying to come out. Hopefully this is one of a million poems to come. I hope, anyway.