I saw a poem in motion.

It moved slowly

Past a graffited wall.

Then down a littered alleyway.

It was beautiful.

And most unlikely too.

She was graceful and tall

Whisps of long, dark words

Trailing after her

And raindrops passing through

-Smudging ink.

I stood and watched

And she lingered here

Amongst the adjectives,

Verbs and pronouns,

The alliterations

And the blacksmiths

Who forge sole.

She danced after them.

Then, on spying me.

She left.

I saw a poem in motion.