Words flow out in
scratched handwriting.
Evaporating like sunburnt tears.
They just drift,
swiftly lifting through the air,
blowing in the breeze.
They never find ears,
only me down on my knees.
A poet’s words
are more than letters tied together.
They are emotions we share forever.
The fruits we pluck free
from the tree of memory.
Under the midday sun they shimmer
like a swimmer pushing through the water,
they sink and rise,
a visual mirage before your eyes.
Wavy heat haze air
lost words we can no longer hear.
A poet’s words are not just talk.
They are dreams
through which we walk.
Seeing all the intricacies,
being able to appreciate
the delicacies.
Words flutter free like birds.
Just here to visit before moving on,
never land for very long.
Leaving behind just snippets,
memories of a song.
A poet’s words are important.
They can be the spark
that ignites a fire in the heart.
They can bring a loved one back to life
and make bad memories fall apart.
Thanks for reading
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