Poetry is explaining what my lips are unable,

When my fingers & toes are twitching under the table.

Sometimes I try but the words come out sloppily;

For some reason, this way, I can express my thoughts properly.

I try to explain but my mouth can be dodgy,

So I’ll rhyme instead of converse, it’s way less stodgy!

I can use different words, I might not every day,

It’s fun, mischievous; like a child at play.

It’s the acceptance of fancy words & short sentences,

It’s that no one answers back or pulls a face- freedom, independence.

The bounce in my voice as I read my words back,

The clarity in my mind, that daily I lack.

More often than not, I’ve read poems & smiled,

Poetry & rhyming has me utterly beguiled.

That’s certainly what poetry is to this expressor,

But I am in no way claiming to be a professor!..