Words

Like a window waiting to be opened, a piggy bank waiting to be broken, the words find release on a page. So fluid, so true, so absolutely new; the words continue to be written. A rhyme, a metaphor, everything I chose to adore; the words out at last. I can express, and even impress, with the words that I use. I am not scared, I come prepared, to make my words count. A rhino ready to charge, I am a writer at large, when my words find meaning. I take a chance to open my heart, I would rather dance than make a graceful depart; the words that cannot fade. With a pen I prefect my technique, to write the words I cannot speak.