Words walk humbly,
offering themselves in place
of their letters, protected
from erasure or white-out.
I pick up a word, carelessly
dropped and disregarded;
in my hand it feels smooth
and cool, live a river stone.
Words spill from my hands,
cascading into streams and flows
of other words, others’ words,
joining wet stones on the sand,
slowly eroded by waves, and rain.
I pick up words on the sand and
send them skipping across waves,
edging into ocean’s surface sheen,
reflecting glimpses of sun’s light
slicing the day.
This poem is submitted for Open Link Night at dVersePoets. The links will be live at 2 p.m. Central time today.
Photograph by Fran Hogan via Public Domain Pictures. Used with permission.