Chicken Scratchin's, Poems 
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A soft southern drawl invading my mind
As floods of confusion drown surprise
In the wine of his voice and I find
Myself thinking about smiling eyes.
“You don’t even know him,” my Logic cries
Out, to cover the excitement and danger
As he says my name and tries
To think what to say to a stranger.
“You’ve been alone too long!” shouts Reason
To my trembling hand holding the phone.
“Then be careful this dreary season,
You’re not using him—you are just alone.”
“Friendships grow over boundaries and age.
They do not happen with quickened interest,”
Again cries Logic, that depressing Sage.
“Hold your feelings in secret—that way’s best.”
I weary of Reason, Logic and Sense now;
I tire of waiting for life “around the bend.”
I reach and hold a hand to my brow
For the dream he offers as a friend.
–Lois Fowler Barrett 1990