*Have you ever thought,
That every poem born,
Is l i f e ?*
They grow an i n ch
For every soul they touch.
And as they age, senile
Emotions once felt,
T h e y d i e.
You see,
In people's lives
There are a lo t of s ta rs
left u n to u ch e d
And if they sparkle
A t ni g h t,
Know that, it is
the wr i t er 's s o ul
That gives it spark, but it is
the re a d er's he a r t
That makes it s h i ne .
And the one
Who makes it fall,
Are those who wish you
The b e s t s in l i fe .
Oct 15, 2017
Oct 15, 2017 at 1:06 PM UTC
*Have you ever thought,
That every poem born,
Is l i f e ?*
They grow an i n ch
For every soul they touch.
And as they age, senile
Emotions once felt,
T h e y d i e.
You see,
In people's lives
There are a lo t of s ta rs
left u n to u ch e d
And if they sparkle
A t ni g h t,
Know that, it is
the wr i t er 's s o ul
That gives it spark, but it is
the re a d er's he a r t
That makes it s h i ne .
And the one
Who makes it fall,
Are those who wish you
The b e s t s in l i fe .
Late post 7/14/17
Request permission to use this poem