She contemplates the words
As they scroll
Across and down
The meaning is profound
What, when, where, why
The subtext provokes.
She emits a sigh

Poetry is motion
but words remain still
How can we enjoy that
which is static and chill
I know not the answer
I can’t scan the line
But music is her poetry
Her rhythm, her rhyme

For Al, wherever she may be

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