Verse,
just woven
from words
is grape juice,
not wine.
It must ferment
and age
in the dark cellars
of the mind;
for a while
forgotten.
Later,
perhaps tasted
and shaken in the sun
to shuffle
or delete words,
or perchance
add
a forgotten word.
Often
it is simply left
on its own
until someday
it issues
the desired effect
on the mind.
Boghos Artinian
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/verse-13/
