Words

Words in life are easily scorned, derisively decided worthless and yet; I hear it, whispering through the wind, welcome in anticipation... your voice. Sealing those canvasses shut. Waiting, on words the brushed bruising of lips, quickly accepting of my own two, too blushed, too blooming. It is not just words I wait on but your touch; crushing the chasm inside to build me. Only then can the sparrow nestled on my chest fly - fly free to your arms. Oh - encompass me?