And I love how words swirl around my fingers,
The thoughts that dance at the tip of my pen,
The color of imagination sprouts and lingers,
And blooms like a flower again and again;

Whenever ideas pop out to be noticed,
They make buzzing sounds in the air like bees;
They create a halo of fantasy mist,
And dive to my paper's creases and sheets;

And all of the noise inside of my head
Begins to keep quiet down in a moment,
Until a new wave of immaginative thread
Weaves artful poetry of passionate garment.



© nabinara