Words

Dried-up words
Litter the pages of my mind.
Old, burnt-out words,
Like leaves in autumn,
Never to know that life again
That once plumped their veins,
And gave them color and strength.

Worn-out words
Sag against the walls of my heart.
Old, enervated words,
Like cleaning ladies past their prime,
Who bend their backs
Because they cannot bend their knees
To clean away the filth.

Washed-up words
Lie scattered on the shores of my soul.
Old, storm-tossed words,
Like beached whales
Upon the shell-strewn sands,
Gasping their last in lonely devastation,
Adrift and lost.

Copyright 2014