I have words inside of me,
Tumbling around like stones,
Hard-edged, rough-edged stones.
They tumble around inside of me
And the edges become softer and softer.
Rough surfaces become glossy.
They begin to shine.
The core of their meanings are seen.
The intent becomes clear
To the appreciative eye.
The words wait for me to pull them out and compose love letters to you.
They wait to be the tools that would send you a message of adoration.
The heart looks at me in exasperation and wonders why
I won’t utilize the instruments at hand,
to express her regard for one so –
And I tell my heart to be patient.
I tell her that you have so much on your mind.
I tell her that you need a minute.
And I tell myself those things too.
But I have words inside of me.
Tumbling around like stones.
Soft, like silky things in the palm of my hand.
They are ready to be whispered into your ear
As you move over me,
As you move into me.
To be given as gifts.
Gift to this world,
Gift to my life.
To be written.
To be spoken.
To be shared.