Oh how the eyes shine,
When unbidden, they find that flawless verse,
Like a glass of lemonade to quench one’s thirst.
Don’t you see the words hovering?
They glisten vividly in hind sight,
As if the sun has squeezed them out of the pages.
They skim, they bounce, in utmost fragility,
Careful not to tear down their apparition,
Their delicacy creates their beauty.
It’s a wonder, a wonder of the penman’s mind,
To weave a fabric that all can wear,
Touch one’s skin or wring another’s heart.
But its not just the exquisite words that shine,
The glow comes from the poet’s self-narration,
One’s true story is the art that reaches the furthest.