Painting with a Pencil

When the paints have dried out,
And the piano is out of tune,
Poetry serves well in their stead.

Its figurative language ...
A mélange of similes and metaphors,
Some bright as the midday sun,
Others just a timid smile ...
Paints a picture, a stunning masterpiece,
Of worlds well explored, and worlds newly discovered.

Admirable alliteration adds a musical touch,
Which is enhanced by rhythms,
As various as in any musical piece ...
Some mostly soft and SWeet,
Others with a sharper beat,
Or a rhyme from line to line,
That creates a temPO most fine.

For poetry is but a painting ...
Designed without a brush;
A symphony ... with no note-covered staff;
The palette is large, yet the final product seems small
For the true meaning is masked by minimalistic words,
Which, in the hands of wise readers, provide a window
Into the mind ... and heart ... of the author.

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