words wait to spill
from my soul
syllables speak
i breathe
i inhale, exhale
words
words become pictures
snapshots
of my life
shared sentences
without words
what would i be
this poem
would not
be
these insignificant
curves and lines
are significant
descriptions, details
that describe my life
tell the world
who i am
Dawn Blanchard
March 9th, 2011
No comments:
Post a Comment