In my bones, I am a poet
And every word I trail shows it
Like a fingerprint to trace
Conjures an image of my face.
Any essays, I might write
With golden flourish, thrilling heights
With wide crescendos, rumbling frisson
Soft like silk and smooth like ribbon.
So when my teacher does request
A lab report or written test
I may bring tears to their eyes—
Still, I did not get it right.
Nov 21, 2024
Nov 21, 2024 at 6:19 PM UTC
In my bones, I am a poet
And every word I trail shows it
Like a fingerprint to trace
Conjures an image of my face.
Any essays, I might write
With golden flourish, thrilling heights
With wide crescendos, rumbling frisson
Soft like silk and smooth like ribbon.
So when my teacher does request
A lab report or written test
I may bring tears to their eyes—
Still, I did not get it right.