a poem

It matters not the tune
Every word will strike
A harpsichord
In my heart

A poem is food
That you chew slowly
And not because it’s healthy
You let it simmer in the
heat of your mouth

Don’t you ever
Spit a poem out.
Lest you remain
Forever hungry

A poem is a piece of your soul
That was born outside
Your body
And now it’s come home

A poem is a hand
to fit your hand in
and if you never read it,
a poem stays forever incomplete.

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