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My Words

Megan W., Rochester, NY By mwurzer4, Rochester, NY

A spark, that’s all it takes,

And the words start to roll and shake
From a cabinet in my brain;
They tumble like a train
Down my mind’s lane,
And into my neck
Where they stop for a breath,
And on to my shoulder,
But slowly like a boulder,
Rolling and gathering moss
Without any loss;
No chips from the rock
So soft like a sock,
Falling swiftly to my arm
Not doing any harm,
But like a waterfall
Spreads healing moisture over all
And on still as a marching band
To meet the border of my hand
And spreads like fire
Fed by my desire
That I may be shown
Life’s own tone
From the words in my bones
That creep like medicine

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