the world
If love were poetry,
What is the world if not that?
A bite of your favorite treat,
A breath from a partner.
Are those not to be considered poetry?
If love were to be poetry,
It would be truly unknowing.
The day illuminated yet the night to be explored,
The stars and sun taking turns to shine.
Ever-changing for each body and meaning.
If love were to be poetry,
It would be to seize the day.
Breathing every moment,
Delving in through quicksand,
Reaching for a stick when gasping for air.
But if love were poetry,
It would be a child falling after chasing for ice cream,
Ink running still as a pen glides across a top,
A cry of defeat and of victory.
For the one feeling and receiving,
Never really a pin-point feeling.
However, without poetry,
the w
o(S)
rL;
d
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