Old Woody took a long and satisfying pull at his pipe. Do you like
poetry, he asked. Anna nodded. Old Woody settled
the glowing tobacco in his pipe.

'Do you', he said sucking away. 'Do you know what poetry is?'.
'Yes', replied Anna. 'It's sort of like sewing'.
'I see', Old Woody nodded, ' and what do you mean by sewing?'

Anna juggled the words around in her mind.
'Well it's making something from different bits
that is different from all the bits'.

'Um', said Old Woody, 'I think that is a rather good definition of poetry'.

-Mister God, This is Anna - By Fynn (Page 162)