The words wait inside my head –
They crouch around corners and
Hide behind doors, they
Twirl and fall away from
Like a child trying to catch a leaf
As it flutters from its branch high in the sky –
Until the tip of my tongue is full
Of unsaid syllables.
The words are slippery sprites
Who let letters slink past my lips
To tease and trick my pencil into
Believing it has the right ones.
Gentle coaxing fails to tempt them –
They dance up and down
The corridors just a breath away.
The words are cowards
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