If words can summon music in your heart
Which words are the flutes?
Flittering about your head like birds.
And which words are pounding in your chest like drums?
Words are like eggs waiting to birth forth,
New worlds
New songs
New containers
Of my deepest emotion.
Gathering together words, can be like a string of socks hanging on a clothesline.
Or they can
Be like bunches
Of pebbles
Or clouds
Gently thrown
Haphazardly
On purpose.
Words sing in my heart, twittering in the early morning.
They beat with my blood, pulsing in my ear as it rests on my pillow late at night.
The perfect word, or phrase perseveringly presenting itself,
Wakes me from my drowsy state, resplendent.
Words, my sweetest companions, always there,
Moving me through the crashing waves and stark desert of my life,
My lifeboat and oasis sustaining and nourishing me
Staking me to the ground while lifting me to the clouds to fly.
Words
Birth
My inheritance.
