We are the lovers
of this kaleidoscope
this ride we’re on
As we twist, we write
of the myriad colours
the fireworks dazzling our eyes
of tears, tantrums, seering sunsets
the veins in leaves
the storms between people
beautiful and terrifying
all at once

We are the lovers
of words on lips
their taste on tongues
and turns of phrase, delicious
The flick of nib on paper
the trail of ink that follows
or a cursor birthing characters
Our thoughts collect as puddles
until they river and rhyme
We lament the train of time
as it whistles down the line

We are the lovers
Singing colours, painting feelings
or lost in quiet reveries
Chasing expression
and the peace of mind that comes
a certain satisfaction, the release
of spitting it out, of laying it down
Mental gymnastics
at the linguistic bench press
you’ve got to exercise that muscle
work it daily

We are the lovers
of language and experience
Sometimes, it’s a struggle
sometimes, it comes easily
We huddle together
at the edge of the world
and let the beauty spill…