“She had blue skin,
And so did he.
He kept it hid
And so did she.
They searched for blue
Their whole life through,
Then passed right by-
And never knew.” -Shel Silverstein
“For poems are not words,
after all,
but fires for the cold,
ropes let down to the lost,
something as necessary
as bread
in the pockets of the hungry.”
— Mary Oliver