It seems as if the river of words
That once flooded my soul
With their ever flowing
Torrent,
Swift and powerful,
Has suddenly hit an all new low.
Maybe my words are somewhere far
Waiting and wishing for my to find them?
Maybe they ran because I was
Unfit,
Not the right shape,
For their kindred minds.
Sparkling, they lay in the bounded walls
Of my heart and mind
Gems of mist,
Meaningless,
But pretty and soft.
Drops in a wishing well.
