Poetry is when an emotion has found its thought and the thought has found words.

And every one of them words rang true and glowed like burnin' coal. Pourin' off of every page, like it was written in my soul from me to you.

If it meant my love was really true, I'd gladly die and watch over you.

I'll go find a shadow, and sigh till he come.

A voice said, Look me in the stars And tell me truly, men of earth, If all the soul-and-body scars Were not too much to pay for birth.

Butterflies...flowers that fly and all but sing.