Words to keep to yourself,Words to cry next to,
And to dance with
In the shimmering rain.
Words to smile at,
Words to be whispered
And shouted in pain,
Words like the sunrise
Of your childhood soul,
Words like the sunset
Over quieting thoughts.
Words sharpened like swords
In a futile battle
Of egos and selves,
Words growing,
Like a rose garden, sheltered
By the white, country fence.
Words with eyes,
And words with hands,
Words that hold you,
Words that sail,
On seas of dreams,
And waves of hope,
Words are choices we all make.
Copyright © 2012 Cristina Miller.
