I open my eyes to see beauty around,
A blood kissed rose bared to the sun,
Her scent traversing the summer breeze.
I open my eyes to see poetry everywhere.
An old woman talking of the past,
As history comes alive in her words,
I watch her eyes dance between sadness and joy,
And realise poetry is the only sound.
The smell of clean sheets upon the bed,
The crisp feel of linen yet to be touched,
In those fleeting dreams when love was here,
I remember that poetry is in all things.