I’ve always had a way with words. Like currents of a river, my words flow with no force, carrying shadows of the past, flowing along with the hopes for tomorrow.
My words sing of the little secrets locked inside, expressions always changing, always on the move — sometimes deepening, sometimes bursting the banks, going over the edges of reality.
My words find their way through tortuous windings, unsuspected depths, and shallows. They glisten under the early light of the moon and burble like music in the warmth of the day.
My words flow in rhythmic cadence through the fleeting hours, inscribing timeless verses of poetic composition, lulling songs of love that meander across the landscape.
On that fateful day, I can’t find a decent word to say when all of a sudden, everything came to a halt. As if the mighty river runs dry at that moment when you said goodbye.
