From the other side of the world, in the quiet of our sleep,
Some friends perhaps we'll never see, into our corner creep.
To them our world is upside down, we're standing on our heads.
When we awake to read their words, they're dreaming in their beds.
Our winter is their summer, their fall is our new spring.
More different than alike are we, except in this one thing.
We are members of Soup Poetry. I am sure we'll all agree.
We're alike in reading, writing and in loving poetry.