Invisible

Class ends
and we file past the teacher,
handing in our hurried words.

I catch a glimpse of some;
they're mostly short.
Three lines.
Four lines.
However short they can get it
without it being no longer
a poem.

But they're all poems.
They've all been written
from a hand
and hold something -
even if it's little
even if it's fake.

That's what makes it a poem;
the more it holds
the better it is.

Although it helps if you're good at writing too.
I wish I was.