The Writer and The Poet

A writer and a poet where having afternoon tea
It was in the local park at a quarter to three
The poet turned to the writer and said; 'tell me what people you see' ...
So the writer described all their faces from ones full of pain to ones full of glee
The poet smiled and shook his head; 'you have missed something quite key,
The deep parts inside of a person that are greater than both you and me'
The writer scratched his head: 'pray tell how can that be?'
'Their souls make them who they are' the poet replied, 'and what they are is free'
The writer begged with a great plea;
'Is there anyway I can see what you see?'
The poet shook his head and scratched his knee
'I'm afraid not as I will never be you and you will never be me.'