A Square Of Soft Words Poem by Jerry Pike

A square of soft words.
Draw finger snap thoughts,
and I run, dropping the world,
fool into slaughters gape.
Chancing stupidity,
for a merging mind.

I’m sure you’re no different,
still centre of your own world,
wrapped up in self applause,
sticky taped ideas,
tacking my enthusiasm
to a purring wish.

Yet I’ll gush like some prodigal voice,
as babbling brooks of maybe,
rustle by ears, filling me up
with a brighter day,
and bagfuls of hot,
fresh, possibility.