I am a proset, not a poet

A poem? Me? I promise it won't happen again!

-I don't even think to call myself a poet. I can count on my hands the number of poems (that weren't required for something) that I've written. I do much better with prose. That said, I have decided to put this up because I like it. Maybe it'd be better to think of it as very poetic prose than a poem with any sort of structure or song to it.

The Gray Poet

Driftwood – slender and grey, I let the waves
Direct me whither they will…no will of my own,
I am weathered by time
And the endless beat of life

Owl – silent and lonely, said to be wise
I keep to myself and the cold and the night
Yet aloft I am free, wild
With the ecstasy of flight

Mouse – shy and soft and ordinary
I do nothing to attract notice; I am content
To simply live my life
In my own little hollow

(It's actually supposed to be describing me [which is annoyingly pretentious] but I like this title better, which means it isn't about me any more since I'm not a poet.)

Cheers.