Another Poet

The crowd was hushed and waiting
For wishes to resume
When suddenly there was
Another poet in the room.

When words might be expected,
My friends would all assume
That rhyming thoughts would come
From me, the poet in the room.

These folks were not my homies;
My sibs were there, though, whom
Would surely have expected
Me to rhyme into the room.

I had no poem I'd written,
No words with nom de plume,
But how I wished I'd been
The only poet in the room.