If poetry were a person,

they would walk into walls,

Their attitude would worsen,

With each new fall.

“I was lost in thought

About my breakfast haikus

Now I’ve miscounted!”

Looking for hours at the clouds,

A walking disaster of long words,

Terrible at silence as they think aloud.

Eternally sorry for not being an early bird.

Despite the jumbled mind,

Ask a question and the answer they’ll find.

They always find

The right words

For all emotions

Even if

It takes them

A while.

The word from the tip of your tongue,

Listens to every song sung.

Finds rare perfect words that fill your lungs…

Until a poem is carefully strung.

(Difficult to write this one - I have a small wrist sprain so sorry for any writing quality drop over the next week 💛)