Words have always been my art:
They dance for me and sing for me;
They laugh for me and cry for me;
They are my paint and brushes;
They are my clay.
I flew to Mississauga today and almost forgot to write a poem. Here's a rictameter about the flight.
Soaring so high
Above the clouds you fly
Defying weight and gravity
You leave the earth behind
And there you find
This is awesome, right out of your life. Good rhymes. You should take the middle line and turn it into a country song.