These words flow smooth from my lips like
Water streaming down the backs of legs in the shower.
Rhymes, rhythm, verses run out like
Children fly out onto the playground after class.
This is my craft, my wood I am carving
It's molded in my mind like clay shaped by my fingers.
Words shift and dance and play among my thoughts
Tumble onto paper and keyboard and appear in front of me
As if they were brought there by magic.
Passionate words come out quick and sharp
Like breath when fists hit chests,
Forced forward by no choice of the owner
And drawn back but not completely, not mine anymore.
Each line a string from my heart drawn out
And curved and sewn into a fabric of unknown design.
My words are my dreams, my life, my memories
They choose me, I do not own them any more than
A songbird owns its song or a chameleon owns its color.
My words are little rivers given to me to release
And let flow out into the world to refresh and restore.