As poetry became her cozy pal,
She sat on a reed mat and read
Poetry that taught her to navigate
The mysteries of memory and verses,
She embarked on a journey of action,
Motivation, meditation and reflection,
She caressed its coils, curves and cries,
And learned to shriek with a smiling face,
The expedition was indeed an inspiration,
It was more than idealistic, it was spiritual,
It was as titillating, thrilling as a thorny trance.
As poetry became her cozy, lazy pal,
She sat on a reed mat and read poetry
That sought to give her power and peace,
Titled a Mate on the Mat, the read really
Romanced her, got her raving and riveted,
Those pieces of poetry perfectly pickled, pulled,
Pushed, patted, prodded and played with her,
She plunged into the magnetism of poetry,
And tapped into its metaphors and melodies
That taught her to touch the lives of others,
To touch them with a magnitude of repair,
Not despair, to help them embark on a trip
To a healing heading, hope and happiness,
It was as titillating, thrilling as a thorny trance.
She sat on a reed mat and read poetry
That cuddled, cared, consoled crying souls,
Poetry that professed love and liveliness,
That replaced hurt, hopelessness with hope,
Despair, damage with poise and progress,
Yet she claimed she could never say
Enough about how she felt at that moment.
She sat on a reed mat and read and read
Vivacious verses on the splendor of pebbles
That played no victim, but victors of settings,
Her vision converted into a lovely innovation,
Her meditation transformed into inventions
Of love, and she claimed she could never say
Enough about how she felt at that moment.
