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You move me like the first wiggle in my toes in the morning; like the first stretch of my arms, the first crack in my back that tells me that sleep this night was good. The first yawn, the first dryness in the corner of my eye that I wipe before I fully become awake.

I’m moved by the first ray of sunshine peeking in my room; the first sip of hot coffee on my tongue, I’m now awake, centered, refreshed…and I blame you. You move me, though I seem unshakable, unrelenting, stubborn, and filled with flaws. You slipped through those cracks like flowing water in a stream; my dam never stood a chance.

You move me to your own rhythm, I can do nothing but let you lead and you lead me to wonder, amazement, imagination, and beyond. I wake up to you every day in the same way yet I never know what dances we will inspire. You…"Life"…You move me.

Excellent! Though the structure appears prosaic this piece definitely reads as a poem. I was fully prepared to learn that the "mover" in this poem was a lover only to find it to be Life itself. This revelation was as dramatic and surprising as the poem was beautiful.

I enjoyed reading this very much Whitney. Thank you for sharing it with us.

Perfect poem and I loved the part that instead of using traditional poetry structure you used a unique structure of your own. Also if the poem was longer and more descriptive I would have been much happier.

thank you both!

I like this, the way they move you so naturally.

Thank you so much. I find it fascinating how we can describe one thing and it could totally mean another and we didn't even realize it.