A poet
Is a painter of words.
His pen is a brush
And the paper is a canvas.
Words become pictures
In the portrait of one's mind.
Letters,
They are strokes of a pen,
But each line represents something
And together they form a piece of art.
But what is a letter?
For in many languages they are different.
My brush
Strokes against this canvas
And lays down the lines of a face,
But the face is not that of a human.
Instead it is the face of FACE,
The very word I am using right now.
One stroke down and two across that is F.
Two diagonal strokes and a horizontal one that is A.
One curved stroke that is C.
One stroke down and three across that is E.
Now, I have just painted a FACE.
A poet
Is a painter of words.
His pen is a brush
And the paper is a canvas.







