Anyone who says, “Here’s my address,
write me a poem,” deserves something in reply.
So I’ll tell a secret instead:
poems hide.
In the bottoms of our shoes,
they are sleeping.
They are the shadows
drifting across our ceilings
the moment before we wake up.
What we have to do
is live in a way that lets us find them.
~Naomi Shihab Nye
Image: Pink Sherbet Photography