2.23 A Fleeting Thought

I had a really good line earlier today.
Something about poets.
Something about…the heart.
A poet is the patient soul
Who picks at the knots of the heart
Spinning out the twisted strings,
Lays them flat to better expose the bruises
And admire the bright beating glories.
Was that it?
Not half bad.
Except I think at some point it rhymed.