tiny broken pieces and a faint memory of you

once a poet-forty six

there was once a poet,
sitting inside a shed.
the beautiful scenery—
outside it lands.
the air blowing outside,
the poet's head perked up;
watching the joy and the angst.
the poet writes,
and off she goes,
teleporting to the sand,
intertwining the sea;
the horizon;
the air;
and the sun.