Word Spill
Words spill from my brain
and soak the paper with ideas.
Sometimes they trickle forward
as a gentle brook tucked
serenely in the woods.
Then there are those days
where the water faucet never
turns off. Words demand
and take a life of their own.
I allow them to live.
I don’t have a choice.
and soak the paper with ideas.
Sometimes they trickle forward
as a gentle brook tucked
serenely in the woods.
Then there are those days
where the water faucet never
turns off. Words demand
and take a life of their own.
I allow them to live.
I don’t have a choice.
posted by Vickie at 10:58 PM
2 Comments:
true enough, and well said, but why switch from "my" to "we?"
probably because I didn't even notice. I was more concerned about 55 words.
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