There is a warning love sends and the cost of it is never written till long afterward.
Lips half-willing in a doorway. Lips half-singing at a window. Eyes half-dreaming in the walls. Feet half-dancing in a kitchen. Even the clocks half-yawn the hours And the farmers make half-answers.
Poetry is a kinetic arrangement of static syllables.
Poetry is a type-font design for an alphabet of fun, hate, love, death.
Hope is an echo, hope ties itself yonder, yonder.
Time is the coin of your life. You spend it. Do not allow others to spend it for you.