My words are a workshop
A somber sort of place
Storing scraps of stories
With a dusty sort of grace.
They are just bits and pieces
That together make a shed
In which I store more fragments
In a town with in my head.
———————————————-
This town, of course, is made up
Of other types of words
Each with their own story
That relate to other verbs
And nouns
And adjectives
And adverbs.
———————————————-
All of them are special
And each one has its place
They mean things like a memory
Or a friendly smiling face.
And if you let me share them,
I hope that you will see,
That sometimes it’s the small words
That tell the best story.
