In an HP sky of verse
words float like birds.
They fly so poets divine
watch with binocular eyes and like buttons.

In an HP landscape
verses gathers inside seasons rain.  
Sometimes thunderous poems are posted
Other times light poems that harbor rainbow.
Occasionally they even shine with sun.

In an HP home people gather
singing, laughing, screaming, crying,
in language of hearts
from around the world.

In an HP platform
magic is born tickling senses.
Becoming a melting *** of jargon
in a computer screen world.