Carving poetry be like…
So, I turn the poem into a blooming being; a human being.
More truly, I carve the success story—your hidden trophy
Read the message in your uneven smile;
Dark, slick hair running a mile
Read the story your eyes tell as it sparks, every once in a while,
Sometimes, the poem writes itself.
So, one must be patient enough; open enough
To read it.
Sunlight takes its sweet, slow time to reach the Earth.
Then to reach you.
But when it does,
Gosh, is she a sight to see! A light to consume. A brilliance to erupt.
A human being; a journey; a story; bittersweet Poetry.
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