Words float on air
waiting for the right person to pull them down,
put them out, lay them in order of perfection.
Feelings graze on empty fields,
Running to hide when hunters with nets
of pen and ink come calling.
Poets, do not hide in forests of green.
Do not swim away in oceans of blue,
Do not fly into the sun to blind us,
Bring forth your efforts so that all may see,
May taste,
May read,
May learn.
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