Words carve feathered, crude,
Beautiful walkways
For each witty and farcical bon mot
Spoken as though your mind turned
For each cleansing reflection
Gazing through the pristine waters
For each sparkling moment
Of escaping what is the most sought-after mundanity
Words are windows
Fitting perfectly into the frames for which they were designed
Yet possessing the capability to open
To the ever-whooshing excitement
If words are an inspiration
Why am I left speechless