A poem
is like a can of Coke
The first pop when opening it Mhm, so satisfying
Then the drink itself, as you take sips at a time
Is immensely refreshing.
The can is eye-catching Simple, and timeless
A poem
is like a light flurry
The soft crunch under your feet
The little caress of your cheeks
The peace and quiet of the surroundings
Is like the immersion into a poem
A poem
is like an apple tree
Bearing fruit at the right time
Even if some of it may be hard to reach
It’s all the more satisfying when you do
To grasp the meaning.
Or the fruit, whichever
Or a poem, to some people
Is just blank.
A meaningless
chunk of words
Or just simply
too hard to understand.
Makes sense.
I mean
sometimes that’s me