Not exactly poetry,but it makes me want to write it! It’s from my own book so that’s why it says that it was a poetic moment because my fingertips wanted to tell the reader how the author was feeling.

Nahim didn’t answer, the sweet fragrance of the air and the many different colors about him, the flutter of butterflies with their delicate wings, the bow of the flowers to the wind, the rising and falling notes of the songbirds, it all demanded more attention than this one whom he didn’t like to talk to. The sweet scent on the air was like medicine, the tender petals that surrounded him like a relief from the places he had seen. The voices of many little feathery hearts about to burst with great joy like a dew drop on a leaf, were food for the weary soul of man. Those praises to Him who created them at the beginning of time, who with only His voice had He given them life and breath, forever would rise, until the end of the world. The rays of sunshine, like a beam of love, fell upon everything with a tender, soft light. The butterflies, like messengers of every good tiding, landed upon everything that their little brains could process. The trees, laden with flower, swayed with great sweeping strokes like a paintbrush. The pathways were shining with the bits of reflective minerals within the rocks. It was a poetic moment.
Nahim gently let himself down under a pretty tree, who’s long hanging flowers of purple-lavender swung over his head. He brought up his right knee to his chest and rested his head upon it.