I once knew a poet
When he read his words aloud,
there would always be a crowd.
Each word came out of his mouth like an opera singer, long and dramatic his voice would linger.
I wonder where those words came from
He put every syllable together like a painting and I was always caught waiting, for each altered tone was a brush stroke
Fluid with ease, signed unknown
I wonder where he got his words
Mar 10, 2016
Mar 10, 2016 at 1:03 PM UTC
I once knew a poet
When he read his words aloud,
there would always be a crowd.
Each word came out of his mouth like an opera singer, long and dramatic his voice would linger.
I wonder where those words came from
He put every syllable together like a painting and I was always caught waiting, for each altered tone was a brush stroke
Fluid with ease, signed unknown
I wonder where he got his words
