Forgive me , my poetry

FORGIVE ME, MY POETRY

Today, on Book Day,

I speak to poetry:

How often we hurt you, dear,

Sometimes,

Throwing you on shelves

Like household items.

You are not like a sheep

We milk in the pen.

You are a wild pearl,

A chestnut burr,

To grasp your essence,

We must bloody our hands.

Sometimes morning dew,

Sometimes the scorching sun,

A burning song

For a hungry soul,

You cannot be confined

Like an hour of the day.

You refuse a cage,

Like air, you are

Poetry...