To ask me
How I'm feeling,
A simple inquisition
Like the turning
Of a page in a
Book of fine writing
And never actually
Looking to find
The picture beneath it.
My answers are
Never quite expected.
Not even in the mind
Of the speaker.
Nothing quite like
Reading the words
Of a poem with
No ending and
Not taking them
For what they
Are;
Beauty.
Reading between the lines.
Looking through the beholders
Eyes.
What do you see?
What can you read?
(Not quite finished yet. Trying my hardest to finish it up. Bare with me :] )
