The Power of Poetry

The paper smiles and gives a slight wave

For a wonderful story is soon to be made

I think, and think, and scan my whole brain

I’ve got it I think to myself with a grin.

The paper is blank like smooth white sand

My hand starts to hover, my pencil in hand

The swirl on the paper and the splotches of lead

I cannot keep up with the thoughts in my head

My pencil’s a dancer

The paper explodes

I sit here and watch as my story unfolds

The delicate rhythm

The powerful beat

I give a slight cheer and sway in my seat

I read over my work in an orderly fashion

And sit here contently for I’ve found my passion