He came to me like a poem
Sudden and fresh
Thoughts of him rest at the tip of my tongue
My words willing to dive into his chest
at the risk of never being returned
His melanin coloring my pages
His roots deep and protected
My verses must carry some weight
Sweet enough to be swallowed whole
And
Real enough to be remembered with reverence
His voice echoing my spoken word
as
My stanzas slip in and out of prose
Poetry inspired just by looking into his eyes
Words begin to form lines of internal rhymes every time I kiss his forehead and he gives me those
-feels like home- hugs
He came to me like a poem
And suddenly I had the courage to write again
He came to me like a poem
Because I never stopped being a poet
Reverence
Published
DKMedium 