Silently Speak

Thick as a blanket,

Often a careless weave.

But when tactfully twisted,

A robe not heaved.

From the gob they fall,

Either spat or wrought,

They often deprave,

Or give reason for thought. 

Having carried the notes,

Of every sung song,

They’ve felt our joys,

And echoed our wrongs.

Such little things,

What a weight they hold,

Length and complexity,

Will show a man old.

Stones and sticks,

Are not all that break,

Hearts and friends,

Are always at stake.

So mind your tongue,

As these stones you throw,

Each one an arrow,

And each one you own.

Shut tight your lips,

When no praise be give’,

But open wide your ears,

Letting wisdom there live.