I dip my pen into the still water
and words like ripples flow off it.
They grow and flourish and then fade out
as I hastily scribble.
I dip my feet in the water
and dangle them lazily.
And the words soak in my feet
so I can walk to a better beat.
Sometimes I dive all in and float and soak them up.
Or sometimes I cut through them like a knife
to get to where I want.
And sometimes the words are cold
And bites my skin as I go.
And sometimes the words are warm
and seem to fill my soul.