Words carry such tender delicacy.
Like the first sheet of ice that coats a puddle in a winter’s hour.
Like a newborn young in the hands of a beast.
Like a surgeon’s fingertips at the end of a scalpel...
They are so precious and so telling of one’s character.
By the way you say them,
The feeling behind them,
The lingering thoughts they leave once said...

The words that boil in my mind scramble once they touch my tongue.
I guess on the sunny side, they’re over easy ‘cause they run.

And they run real ..