Poetry in my everyday

My life is not nearly as poetic
as the nature of humanity.
However, if you weave the right words together,
anything can become poetry.

The life cycle represents how life is round
just as Keats once said.
The forest cycles through seasons like emotions
just as Mary Oliver once said.

My hair is like fire, unruly and flowing, feeding off the sun.
My shoes are practically tarnished from miles of steps in the wrong size.
My room is cluttered in an organized way, mimicking my thoughts.
My soul is content knowing it will return to the earth someday.