Sometimes

I write a poem every day.
“Are they good?” You say.

Sometimes. And they’re
The best times.
The ones where I feel like
I flow rhymes.
When the words and me
Write as one,
Harmonies that belong,
Tapping out a black inked song.
That one line making me
Shiver – smile,
Wish it happened
All the while.

I write a poem every day.
“Are they good?” You say.

Sometimes.

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