The Birth of a poem

You ask me how a poem is born.
Here I tell you.
Imagine,
you walk a lonely path
in the hills,
in the forest,
and see this pebble
that speaks to you of possibilities.
You pick it up,
shape it,
polish it,
and wear it like a jewel.

Just like that,
on my walks,
I see emotions,
raw,
unpolished.
I pick them up
and care for them
and wear them close to my heart.
And that's how poems are born.

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I was talking with Sinja Zieger, who asked me how I write (for lack of a better word) poems. I was sharing with her a bit of my creative process. In the middle of that sharing, I bumped into the preceding.