My abie showed me some poetry he had been writing recently. I didn’t even realize that he had been writing anything in the past year, but it was all really good. It’s nice to have this way to look into his mind, and into his heart. I love that poetry can be anything. It doesn’t have to rhyme, or have a certain number of lines; it can be anything you want it to be. It seems when you forget the expectations of what it is supposed to be, that the best words come out. That is how his seemed anyhow.