What is Poetry?

What is poetry to me?
A verse or two, or maybe three.
It captures things a brush cannot,
Like music and the sound of thought.
It does not always have to rhyme;
It’s not a way of telling time.
A bunny in a magic hat?
Well, poetry is not like that.
It has no shape or solid form
And cannot really keep you warm,
But brightens up a dreary day,
When things are looking kind of gray,
Like gentle kisses on your cheek,
And sunshine on a mountain peak.
It’s all the things you cannot see,
You cannot feel and cannot be,
The truth in all its mystery,
Why, even this is poetry.