Posted in Language, Prose, Relationships

Bunches of Words

Or bunches of Carrots

or patterns of what we say to each other,

dug out of the ground,

 

What more can we say

about the words between us?

I longed to put words into your mouth

but only, if watching you eat them

at the same time, I could

 

My words reflect your words,

even though, we use them differently,

and mincing them, and chopping off the ends

like the carrots that grow in my garden,

enrich the soil between us, anew

 

Take a bite, but not more than you can chew,

and not more than silence can say,

about the language that we share,

grammatically yours,

 

Wordless, I remain

Yours, alone…..

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Author:

My profile might reflect who I am, what I think and why I write what I do. My profile might just reveal the inner workings of a deranged mind, a helpless soul, and a self-destructive way of living. Don't worry. I'm OK. I've just lost sight of my little sister in the evening clouds....

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