Poetry
Poetry is too savoury like music,
from Floetry the tapestry quite a mystery.
The rhyme of words sweet as wine,
to dine with syllables refreshing every time.
From childhood an infatuation seed sown,
now to love for writing it has grown.
I recollect the prior days and nights,
how long the journey has been.
Allan Poe and Maya Angelou predecessors,
the baton of successors already to us passed.
Just how much the world can change,
simple composition of jotted words.
I can only get better and brighter,
most coveted pedestal still I herald.
A pen and paper requisite to write,
it feels too right like a kite in flight.
Many have graced the world stage,
adage after adage the high gauge we range.
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