Sense of worth.

Uninspired...ever so barren,

in times of withdrawal,

written words adopted a tone,

audible fluency to compliment

the questions thrown to shadows.

 Echoes from small imagery

considered satire to define kindness

and I

used the enthusiasm of a sprightly child

to sculpture the passion of a woman he made me.

 During a surrender, storm appeared larger

than the palms of the universe,

aqueous adventures unfolded to dry

over the back of a male dream,

around the throat

and the jaw of a flattering breeze, 

guiding spirit

was lifted as a muse, engaged in meditation

of how to be a poet,

of how to create something selfless.

Nonetheless

its a plain pleasure to dance

with your own sense of worth,

to its music,

listening written words adopting a tone,

just to respond to questions, that you though

were born without an answer.

copyright, 2010. Tihana Novosel