The Words I Want
The words I want are crisp and clean
Fresh and white
Daisy sweet
They float through the eye of the sycamore trees
They glide on top of the rivers that glance and smile
Their truth and their light
They float down under angels' wings
And they refresh and delight and beautify
But these words are not coming
Because illness is blocking them
Holding them down in a quagmire of
sewage water and hopeless muck
Maybe tomorrow...
Copyright © Caren Krutsinger | Year Posted 2019
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