Ernesto P. Santiago Poet Concrete

The Dot, In Small I

This  
                                       Ok            Is  
                                       It’s          Me 
                                              Dot
                                  

                                  O, that’s what I am
                                  Small, less famed
                                  Yet, I stand proud
                                  Among your crowd
                                  I, too, have an aim
                                  Even though I came
                                  Yes, from the land
                                  Where all must run
                                  To the field of tare
                                  Ere storms share
                                  Us, their madness
                                  Our great sadness
                                  Still, I have a price
                                  I also have my vice
                                  Though, life is less
                                  For me, I am bless 
                                  Though, I am a dot
                                  But I am not a nut
                                  O, true, without me
                                  Like dot, there’ll be
                                  No. a small letter I
                                  Or big you, my pie

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