What I see now makes me think
If I getting older makes me see things
As I was told
And I ponder again and again
words… words…
Yes! we use them at whim
But then, we will grow to see
What we have built with our word
Just like the tree and its seed
So are we and our words
Good words are like silver and gold
I guess that is why we gather them unconciously
Passing it on to the hungry ears
I went to the funeral of a “dearest one”
It was a familiar scene
The old woman; the very wise one
Up and down she paced, churning words deligently
Right before us
As she spoke, a vivid picture of the dearest is paited before us
For those who have ears; only but a few
And again tears rolled down a familiar path
Raising words on the forgone path
One thing is this and the other that
words cannever be lost; it is just us..
One day fate will take you back a forgone path where you will arouse some forgone words
And may be…
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