An open book that sat me still,
My keen eyes I have lent,
In every high and low of clouds,
In waves that came and went,
The chill I've felt within myself,
Was replaced with gentle warmth,
For tendrils of these sunbeams gold,
Embraced me in its arms,
And just a touch of familiarity,
The spontaneity in each sight,
I've plead the world to dance for me
In most serene delight,
And as I've found the perfect spot,
In this shotgun seat of mine,
I've learned to read the poetry,
This universe held divine,
And in each verse, it tried to bleed
I saw what I ought to see,
Like how I've written for the world,
It has learned to write for me
YOU ARE READING
Paper & Ink |#Wattys2016|
Poetry"I am the black on white; the ink on paper." A collection of my nightly thoughts and daydreams. Highest rank: #5 in Poetry. Please enjoy reading and find a friend in one of my works. :)
