The poem that came to life

The poem was lying there. On the bed, between us
It wasn’t complete yet. It was forming itself
Trying to fill in the blank, created by our silence
The poem had a mind of its own
I am not sure if it was waiting for us to create its story line
Or if it was forming a story on its own
Telling about this couple
Lying on the bed
And watching a poem being formed
Silently