Poet in my Window

Poet in my Window 

There is a poet in my window

As I stare out the clear glass painted poetry appears 

The little girl that use to manifest in my soul is awakened 

once again with youth and new beginnings

The grass is lush with ants that have a tiny world of their 

own that no one seems to know about but me

The robin in my tree arises to nourish her family with simplicity and ease

The smell of fresh air that seeps into my pores is oh so beautiful to me 

The way the pine and oak trees stand behind the skyline so gently makes

me wish I was a tree...so strong and so wise

There is a poet in my window 

I don't believe we've met before

As I look deeper my reflection appears

I begin to giggle at the sweet realization that the poet is indeed me  

Reviews

[Chris]

"use" or used?

I like the innocence of the last line.