The Nature of a Poem

A Poem, a poem,

What is this thing?

Poetry, a thought

That is the crowned king.

If we could see

The world truly,

We would know that

All things are poetry. 

 A baby's breath,

Nature's light song,

All things held here

Lacking any wrong.

So now we rest, 

Leaving these here.

They will be back

As long as we are near.