Once poetry coursed through my veins, shooting out on the page through my pen. I wrote it, read it, loved it. Then, like many loves that go untended, it faded away. But not forever...
There is something about spring that just feels like poetry. Maybe that's why April was chosen for National Poetry Month. Yet, I'm struggling to really appreciate the beauty of this season...Apparently only Wordsworth can tell me why.
K.L. Kranes 