Just to set the record straight.
I was way into e.e.cummings way before he became popular culture on tumblr.
What happened to really falling in love with an artist’s work? Where have lazy summer days of laying in the shade enjoying a thick book of old poems gone?
Turn off the computer/phone/iPod/everything that distracts you, and just be. For one moment.
Life is a book of poems.
Read it. Love it. Embrace it.
Joy to you.