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Poetry
September 3, 2012
Words from those books dye her lips red as
She rests in bed reading in a hushed tone
Sunlight streams through the slanted blinds
Revealing dirt and dust motes
They are dust and dirt specks searching for distinction as she is too
Her imagination does not have an end
Her mind is there for the taking
She is among the voiceless/boisterous
She is the silently powerful
With every word she is spiraling into the world of verse
Unraveling her wandering, worried mentality
Turning it round and round again until she has discovered poetry
© John O., New City, NY
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