Those Words

All words dress their tiny lines and curves in black, looking much the same. They blur together— grey streets across a page, taking us to bigger places. So why do some words— made of letters like the rest— stop my eyes, catch my heart, and drain me as if they bear the beauty of a … Continue reading Those Words

My Poet

Most people come in prose— masterpieces that the world could not do without. But when You wrote me, you wrote poetry— imaginative, concise, and rhyming You. And when I look around, I see glory where others see cliche— bits of poetry sprouting in the grass, jumping trees with squirrels, resting moon-like in the clouds. I … Continue reading My Poet