What I like about poetry
is all the depth of emotions it can carry.
How with every little poem I find,
the ghost of a friend would linger in my mind.
I would read in the present
but a memory from the past would bring something unpleasant.
Funny how words could affect me
like a thrashing tree,
caught in the whirlwind.
Violently shaking but my roots had me pinned.
But they're on the inside;
pain, joy, sadness, anger that I hide.
Then I find the guardian angels,
familiar in the pieces. These are the miracles
of how powerful poetry
can be. Touching emotions on a higher degree.

-m.b