Good poetry reminds me of swinging outside on a hammock
With the sun making shadows on my book
And closing my eyes to listen to the birds.
Good poetry is the crunch of an apple
Or the crunch of boots in fresh, crusty snow
It’s soft and sweet tangy and new all the same
Kind of like a warm soda on a drowsy day
With the pop and fizz that comes with opening the can
Acting like the opening lines
Of a poem I’ve never heard before.
Good poetry is the kind that makes me want to snuggle close underneath the covers
With my arms outside of the blankets because the smell of warm laundry is making me feel tired,
And fall asleep with the windows open,
Letting in the sounds of the city.
With the sun making shadows on my book
And closing my eyes to listen to the birds.
Good poetry is the crunch of an apple
Or the crunch of boots in fresh, crusty snow
It’s soft and sweet tangy and new all the same
Kind of like a warm soda on a drowsy day
With the pop and fizz that comes with opening the can
Acting like the opening lines
Of a poem I’ve never heard before.
Good poetry is the kind that makes me want to snuggle close underneath the covers
With my arms outside of the blankets because the smell of warm laundry is making me feel tired,
And fall asleep with the windows open,
Letting in the sounds of the city.
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