Words
They are just words, thousands at our disposal;
Thousands more waiting to be discovered.
They bump into each other like two strangers,
a connection made or not much notice given.
Some meetings are etched together in the annals of time,
like the love of two soulmates.
And then others whose meetings are best forgiven.
They are conjured together by poets,
to render you in contemplation.
Where the pen is caressed and spun like a wand,
like cupid creating an unquestionable bond.
They are just words waiting to be sculpted
Like a jagged stone until its edges are gone.
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