My words are like the ocean’s wake
They are not lost in a forest devoid of sound
They are not buried in a field of plowed groind
They loom in a world of grappling arms
Once spoken words are forever adrift
Until the magnet of a like ear grabs each syllable to its own like sound.
Negative to negative
Positive to positive
So if my ripple effects an unearthly sound
I must Expect all of the ramifications of a wake in return
My positive voice can brighten a day
My discordant note may drift until the looming voice of dismay creates the wake of a sinking ship.
Thank you for a beautiful warm morning where the hush of sweet laughter reins through the swaying of a gentle surf!
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