Words Not Heard
When words can't be seen and smiles aren't felt,
we fall onto paper and drip and melt...
We spread colors of blue and grey to highlight
an early morning sigh, and splash and orange tint
on a late afternoon high...
Late at night I will paint my sky a dark black, and
with just my fingertips sprinkle stars that stay intact...
When words finally return and a Poem is read, the background
is my painting of colors from a dreamer not dead....
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