What is a person?
I think.
I think of her.
The most "person" person I know.

I think of her laughs.
Tinkling
A wind-chime. A dream catcher
Glass bangles
Her laughs– music.

I think of her eyes.
Warm. Brown.
Pools that hold memories.

I think of her fingers.
Ever-tapping to musical melodies
Unknown
Undiscovered
Undone.
A reflection of her thoughts, her mind
Her fingers– a metaphor.

Then it hits me– I realize
I recall
A poem is one or all of these–
Memories, metaphors, music.
I realize
A person is a poem.
A poem pulled across the passage of time

A person
Is
A poem.


I think of her again.
And although there is no perfection in poetry
I think I have found
The perfect Poem.
The perfect Person.
Memories. Metaphors. Music.