Words

Scooped up and slippery, they hover in hands while the moonlight shines over them, then tossed like seeds in the back garden looking for soil and sun but waking up to find neither.

 

Bubbles guided by hand and prodded along like toddlers down this long, narrow and white hallway. So many—too many sometimes to see far in front of me—yet I continue to lead the way through the uproarious voices surrounding me. Finding the right room to put them in for the time being. The right place and setting to allow them to find their best potential.

 

Searching soon enough feeling like an unused crossword puzzle on the hunt for the right letters to fill in those empty boxes.

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