Poetry

In the hospital at the very last day of the man who stopped breathing; a handsome young man came up to me and asked,

“Why would you read them poetry while they’re sick at their bedside?”

I simply told him,

“Because they deserve it. Poetry is like a musical song where the words dance in someone’s canvas to make beautiful music, where the words are a string to someone’s guitar. Now imagine the world without poetry. We would always be serious about life and never wonder where it would’ve taken you.”

He looked at me and took a look into my eyes and said.

“You breathe your poetry through your lips.”

I sighed as he jauntily walked away.