With minutes to spare

She lets the words flow through her


Spitting black in on the page

Rorschach in all its beauty

This forest knows us,
And the games we play below.
Empty oak branches,
No longer obscure the view.
Our laughter, pauses mid-sigh.

An iris in bloom,
No introduction needed,
Just your attention.
Behold! The most beautiful!
…for beauty is in the eye…

As the saying goes,
Without the words what am I?
A rose lacking thorns?
No matter how beautiful
Would I inspire poetry?