This is poetryCabin in the woods, Hiding in the trees.Hear those honey bees?Mmm.
It’s a spring morningThere’s still dew on the leavesIt’s cold outsideI’m in your arms, And tucked between your knees,This is poetry.
We’ll hang our garments on a branch, And we’ll let each other inTo the secrets never toldIn this brook that never ends, and Gaze into the clear blue, to find the mid-day moon,This is poetry.
They must’ve learned from us,The way you kiss my cheek, This is poetry.
The way the flowers glow at dusk,And these hinges crack with rust,We’ll settle in this iron frameAnd dream another day.This is poetry.