Toys In My Hand
Words I play with like toys on the floor…
I wind them up as they scamper out the door…
Others like clay I can mold in my hand…
While a few scatter as so many grains of sand…
Words become blocks I can build to the sky…
Each has a feeling even if a bit shy…
Still my pages from my mind will all be read…
Through sounds or through visions it will be said…
Copyright © Michael J. Falotico | Year Posted 2013
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