"Wondrous" this dynamic group,
That concocts their hearty poetic soup,
Then sit, then wait, always polite,
For comments that the others write.
But lofty are artistic goals,
As we bear our hearts and expose our souls,
And catapulted into heaven,
When we receive that cherished rate of "seven".
A "six" is like a pesky "B",
Like the one I got in chemistry,
Then pondered of my studious failing,
My heart and spirit, reeling, ailing.
Hunting sevens each new day,
New techniques, a different way.
Isn't life's adventure such,
We hunt our sevens way too much?
Comfort, silence, laying low,
I type this poem, a gift, although,
Should you love these words I write,
A seven will help me sleep tonight.