The poetry fell all around. Bouncing off the ground.
Rhyming then not rhyming. Flowing then breaking.
Moving through the soul. Poetry is life. We see.
It’s written in the folds. The narrow spaces.
The open places. The air in between. Poetry.
It’s in the veins of all living things. It’s in the soul
of all. Animate and inanimate. It breaths.
Touch poetry, and it will touch you.