Uncorked
Some words are conveyed
With the sweetness of honey
Fresh from the comb;
But on occasion,
That same vessel launches dialog
Toting the sting of African Bees,
At swarm time;
These unconstrained words
Are dispatched to slay,
Or bruise the spirit of another;
For what man's heart conjures up,
His tongue, seizing the instant,
Will usually deliver;
Copyright © Tom Wright | Year Posted 2012
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