EmilyDickinson
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A drifting soul Chooses-wandering Its own facade-inspecting
It passes over each-searching
Their loving arms Protruded-hoping
But Neither has a choice-knowing
They say the eyes are the windows to the soul
poetry is the voice for those who feel voiceless
its words that come together to fill up the holes
its senteces of happiness but also calls of distress.
She opened my eyes to the power of words:
A finely turned phrase,
An image painted on the canvas of the mind’s eye.
In her solitude she found herself,
Her pen speaking the truth of her reality.
