The vortex swirled her
round and round
and when it spit her out
she found
she was back where she began:
home to herself
from whom she once ran.
That voice that she had
held within
emerged from out
the whirling spin.
The voice said to her
"Let's begin
the looking out and looking in."
Words and words and words and words -
she lived her life in decades, thirds,
a book for all her fingers, toes,
and when they were complete -
she rose.
Smiles. Some days the words want to play. Writing with Elizabeth Crawford to the soul cards of Deborah Koff Chapin
You are right, Sherry. Some days, the words do want to play. For me, that means I can hear them giggling from a far off distance, and I must just sit still until they settle.
ReplyDeleteElizabeth
Well, I'm glad words played with you for this. I love the looking out and looking in and the rhyming. This is a lovely poem.
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