Poetry in the present dictates 
internal presence, deep regard 
for a past only accounted for
line by line. 
   Words blur into one cohesive
attempt to detail or describe 
lovers, past and present, and
even those who were not as
kind or considerate. 
   Emotions realized, only at
the time, replicated in a
straightforward voice. 
   Moments are accounted for 
word by word. Poetry exists.
   Our lives become stanzas
documenting only what
we remember.

© 2023 j.g. lewis

April is Poetry Month