life appreciation
Learn more about other poetry terms
When I press my fingers to my throat,
There is a tick tock tick, a metronome
Like the clacking of the keys when I wrote
The arches of my ribs are home.
When our bodies ache and yearn,
Around us is only warmth.
Inside me is only one sound.
We can see colors contrast,Breaking through our windows.Winter has turned to spring,Summer yet to come.