Words
Words
I lay my pen
Against scattered thoughts
And it listens
Capturing those words
That wish to be heard
And the ink of this discovery bleeds onto parchment, spilling its soul, its scents, its music. So I write of brittle leaves in autumn, fragrance of spring, snowcones in summer, and silence of winter. I write of who I am, who I was, and who I might like to be. And I write of things I cannot see and breaths I forgot to take. Sometimes I am asked 'How do you find the words?' It is after much soul searching that I think I may have found my answer. I do not find the words... I let the words find me.
© mdbadgerow 2008
Written in the tankabun form using modern tanka
© 2008 Myrna D.
(All rights reserved)
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