Ghazal (Poem Love)

Morning comes. She sits to write a poem.
Raptured now, she dwells within the poem.

Plumes of feather snow that mute the world let
streets rest wrapped in peace that is a poem.

Put your hand upon my rising chest and
feel in your cramped heart my fondest poem.

Children swallow squalor. Parents, helpless,

murmur grief that punctures like a poem.

Words assemble here, but they strive still to
fit the mystic form, becoming poem.