A poem needs to be said,
needs to be heard,
as a scarf to the head,
sheep to the herd.
Life is lived in motion,
with objectives.
Writing is commotion
with all life gives.
A rose is worth a whiff;
the vase, its hand;
worthy of look and sniff,
as glass is sand.
A poem is dressed in breath
with many words,
and it reaches its depth
looking inwards.
From beginning to end,
you understand,
what happens when a blend
of new thoughts band.
And so, when crafted, it
sends a message.
Take a stand while you sit,
write a passage.
