I am the operative tool
Of my harmonic poetry
Lists of lines dwelling
Within the balance of my mind
In the way I come to write
The words come to me
My serenades sit stacked
As high as infinity's wall
They linger marvelously
In a capacity of endless space
A fortuned library
Held at my highest esteem
These words I say
Have been patient
On the tip of my tongue all morning
Playing games with my mind
Assuring you of their unique design
The surrealist ideas of my knowing.
~ B
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