So ordinary, and yet so charged
With meaning, breathing depth and life and pain.
My heart quickens, is like to break
As wonder fills me, drives my pulse insane.
Yet prose fails to vent my heart's cry,
Falls flat as trumpet notes that fail to ring.
And now my pen becomes a seer
To wash with chiming words my young soul clean.
It is only a drop in the ocean of thoughts written prettily
And yet, it is mine, and I give it freely.