I sat alone and aloof
A Book in hand
And words in mind,
Leaving my reality behind.

He came from nowhere,
Nowhere that I could see
And asked about the words I read;
But for all his words, my words were dead.

We spoke for a while,
Hot coffee warming our hands;
Smiles on our faces and hope in heart
We both played well the stranger's part.

With the hands of time in motion,
We spoke out our souls
Of our lives and our faces,
And our words and their paces.

Of the hours that hurt
And the words that burnt;
The sweet balm of love and care
And how life could, maybe, be a little fair.

He asked, at last, if my words were taken,
And I thought back to the boy
With whom my words belonged--
*I've given up my words far too long...