Poetry

Why write in the longetivity of prose,
Instead of write poetry about an evening primrose?
Of sadness, happiness, and confusion alike,
Words in poems can take you on a hike.

Through forests and valleys and mountains,
Through rains and sunshine aglow,
These words can take you wherever you'd like to go.

Your legs grow tired,
Your knees weak,
Your eyes cold and bleak.
As your eyes look up,
they find the high peak.

They trace and trace and trace and trace,
Until the point is met,
And your legs,
They trace and trace and trace and trace,
Until you've broken a sweat,
And your feet,
They trace and trace and trace,
And you reach the final heat.

Energy flows within you,
With hope and joy and disbelief,
Of that I'm sure.

Atop the high mountain sits a single evening primrose,
As beautiful as can be.
A beautiful evening primrose,
Holding a story for all to see.