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Her Song You are art work that makes art. Your voice is the music that birds strain to hear. I once touched your notes then fell into your song. There to stay, forever embraced, by the rhythm of your arms. You are a sculpture that guides the sculptor’s hands By this you become creator and creation. One day as we were walking by a bed of flowers, I noticed that they for a moment were facing you, rather then the sun. |
This Poem was Critiqued By: Kimberly D Rowe-Van Allen On Date: 2013-11-04 19:35:47
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 1.00000
I love this one, Joe! It is sweet and romantic, making me wanting be the "her" you are writing about. I love how you speak with such awe and reverence for her, and at the end, your last portion talks about how other beautiful things...flowers, turn toward her! Powerful. Such a sweet way to describe the depth of your feelings. Nice work!
Kim