Alive Lines Poem by Pedro Cescon

(To Ashlea)

Drops of ink as black as night sky
Over paper as white a' snow,
Single moves of a pen quite spry
And so starts a life's flow...

Words 'n' colors quite motionless,
That alone seem to have no role,
That together can form quite the mess,
That together can reach your soul,

Lines so precious you want to touch,
For they create in you a bind,
Passionate and great as such,
That equal you couldn' find

Lines born so beautiful,
That you regret they aren't real,
For if so 't woul' be a wonderful
Person, place or ideal,

That is art is all about,
No matter its defect or flaw,
But so to make a life sprout,
Out of a poem, a movie, a draw...