Poems Are Alive

Pieces of a long, shattered thought
obtrude among a stream of imaginary
experiences we play spontaneously in our
minds as curiosities linger upon a sight,
smell, or sound that has seduced us.

Alone our minds are forever ticking,
reviewing, reevaluating, rewording,
editing, evolving, and exchanging perspectives.

As if our tongues are lustrous paint that
lingers upon a canvas of sound
in which the songs’ meanings we elude the
very subtle mysteries we don’t abruptly reveal;
emotions are inevitable in our expression.