In the Queue of Verse

Imagine you're standing in a queue. Impatience is brewing, uncertainty looming. Yet, in this stillness, a world rouses slowly. Poetry resides not just in words, but in the pulse of life’s mundane moments.

Slow down your reading; let each word resonate. In the letters, the beats, find the music hidden in plain sight. Savour the textures, the cadences, the scents that linger in the spaces between.

Each verse carries a tale, a murmur of the human condition. Some are like chai – a blend of cinnamon, cardamom, and cloves, steeped in warmth, soothing the soul. Others, akin to coffee – robust, bitter, a jolt of reality, stirring the senses.

Then there are times when poetry is but a glass of water – simple, essential, the quench for a midnight thirst.

Like the ever-changing hues of the sky, poetry morphs. Haiku, sonnet, or free verse, it speaks in myriad tongues. Emotions weave and dance through its lines, a tide connecting the poet and the reader.

Remember, in the quiet lull of waiting, in the queue of life, poetry breathes. It transforms the ordinary into a canvas, rich and vivid. For in every heartbeat, every sigh, poetry lives – a testament to the beauty that thrives in both the silence and the chaos.