~
words wake me,
some striding purposefully
across my reverie while
others take a stealthier tread with
the practised guile of a thief
all demand my attention,
a few, a small hearty band
jostle me with the impatience
of children who will not be pacified
prompting me to step carefully
through their infantile alphabet
some are slippery fish I cannot catch
or enemies I choose not to fight
they paint crosses on my door
a plague that isolates me
in the torpidity of endless hours,
others come to stay like friends
asking for gentle discourse, mutating to
become curious tourists with colourful
questions from within the dark
if I am careless some might shun my hand
and slip away without a care whilst
others cling on to me as if drowning
these myriad words alone
understand the tenure of my loneliness
my word blindness, fractured viral
broken, I owe these words
everything and nothing
as do they to me
*
© GRS 7/24
grahamrichardsherwood.co.uk 