There is a song in poetry, a song, that I can hear.
Sometimes it is loud and clear. Many times it is soft and low, a serenade that I have to hearken to. Concentrate to listen, and hear. Words, they are words. Beautifully crafted, the language understandable, the meaning clear. But that does not make it poetry, that does not make it verse.
There is a song beneath, that weaves emotion with the verse, that makes the most mundane of words shine, a song that I cannot but listen to, a song that is irresistible to my ear. If I but take a second to listen, it can stretch into an hour, that song, it can turn into a choir, a chorus, a tempest of emotion. If I can but listen, the song is a hurricane, a storm and a whisper from heaven.
There is a song in poetry, a song that I would hear.