Poetry
There's something intimate in poetry
When the ink touches the page
Something sacred flows into me
Ink and paper set the stage.
And then suddenly things happen
It pours out like silent rain
Something that won't play again
This won't happen every day.
It's something passionate in poetry
Taken for granted, set aside
But some love pours over me
When my young eyes are opened wide.
I may only have one chance to live
I may only have one thing to say
There might be no chance to give
if I don't give it today.
So every day I think of it
Something poetic to write
And place ink on paper
In a balance of dark and light.
©byErika Saenz
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