The first poem was a wonder
The second was a surprise.
The third poem made me a poet,
The fourth gave me a name and fame.
The fifth poem fetched me a fantabulous fantasy
The sixth one was a striving struggle for perfect beauty.
The seventh poem conceived the heaven's serenity,
The eighth one gave me a fly,
The ninth poem lifted me in the sky.
The tenth poem turned a touchstone
Whatever I touched became gold
Life is poetry, poetry is life
A fountain of joy said in a metaphor
What a delicate delight it gave
When I was able to decipher.
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