The Words

The Words


like sliding, overcast

shades of gray,

dark and forbidding

and then the break.

The apple of Apollo’s eye

turns golden

and The Words shift like

rippling waves

of green

in the

windblown grass.

They feel better,


like bare feet

wriggling toes in the soil.

The Words grow

taller, stronger,


They spill out energetically


tossed dice,

for all to see and hear


with life.

© Alfred W. Smith Jr

Author: smithaw50

I live in NJ. Concentrating now on a getting a full time writing career started. Glad you could be with me on the journey. Ready? Here we go...

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