Victoria M.

Type.

Just type.

My fingers dangle above the keyboard,

Splashing each word, verb, sentence-

That comes to mind. 

The words are like snow to me:

Soft,

Delicate,

And pure. 

They hang in my mind,

Drifitng about. 

The verbs are like rocks to me:

Rigid,

Firm,

And dense. 

I toss them around,

Throw a few out. 

The sentences are like water to me:

Smooth,

Clear,

And a necessity.

I drink this language from God's palm.