The meaning of poetry

Failings as a poet

Her voice echoes in my head, resembling a foreign language; her words were unsteady

Every morning on the Commute to work, the

Sundays after service we would go home, where I'd find great-grandma

I know I said I'd cut the grass last Saturday,

My love is a Poetry of secrets; that is,

A hero's fulfillment by serving others

A reflection on who one is and who one belongs to