Written by: Bethany Chipperfield

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
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?