"That fleeting feeling Of laying on the ground Or looking in a lake Seeing your reflection Stare back at you The movement of dancing own A sundress hitting knees Tying shoelace for first time Poetry is Crying mirror dark gloomy sky- rain pouring heavy beauty terror living breathing thing. As all art It has no rhyme Almost rules But are made to be broken. mute sound. walking contradiction That's beauty it only thing I know mine much as am poetry’s"