At a village,
An old man said to a young girl...
poetry,
you are music to my eyes...
When night falls and crime calls
I be Batman...
What if I write a sonnet just for you?
You’ll get the extra credit you so need...
I thought you were the cristalline waters
In a river...
It appears
people don't enjoy the beating of my heart...
I lost the pen which had the ink with dreams
So I then searched for it within my hair...
I never wanted to be the sun
but surely enough...
a girl with curly hair
twirls and swirls...
When you read some of my poetry,
I would like you to be...
I try to stretch my thoughts
like mozzarella in a grill...
Something is Off and it’s not the light.
The room is illuminated...