There’s poetry on my walls Brightening up the halls I reread one every day I survey the words as I lay on my bed Thinking of what I could have written instead So many words going through my head In the end, I still place them back up on the wall Some of them I end up crumpling into a ball And ripping them off my wall Then I recall When I wrote them And how I felt like a sparkling gem I tape them back together Straighten the creases And taping the pieces When I look at my wall I no longer feel small ~21/3/21
Treat every piece of poetry as a precious gem. Because it is.