April is Poetry Month

puddles

So she said
              from the shadows
we are all made of rain
       fortified by silence
strengthened
              from pain

    Without it
       we are    dust
swiftly erased
       by a breeze
          With luck
     we become puddles
or give rise
          to the trees

How can
          you know?
               I queried  
                   I must

               Without rain
        we have very little
                       to trust

       I couldn’t quite fathom
   her moral or muse
 but she
       created reality
           I would not refute

 

 This month is all about poetry.
Something new every day.

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