I spend most of my time
Searching for reason and rhyme
I know there are words hiding under my bed
I find hiding them between two slices of bread
They stick to the roof of my mouth
Some go north to my brain, others go south
I see words seeping out of every pore
I’m tripping on them all over the floor
They flow like tears running down my face
They wrap themselves in a lover’s embrace
If I had words for dinner
I certainly wouldn’t get any thinner
So when I eat my alphabet soup
I find myself rearranging them in a group
Words, I wear them on my sleeves
Scattered by the wind like autumn leaves
A spectrum of colors in flight
I have this enormous word appetite
Within the magic of our heart
Simple words play an important part
It’s far from fiction, far from ordinary
I dream I’ll drown in this giant dictionary
Where all the pages are stuck together
And I’ll never finish this poem, never
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Your appetite for words usually results in a tasty treat for this reader. Thanks for another fine tidbit.