The words aren’t crafted
with the mind and hands.
They enter you
the way a welcome lover would.
They come, sometimes
with a tender patience
and at others with an urgency
that demands we give everything,
now.
They find me in the moments
when sleep is on my doorstep
or when I’m absorbed in the luxury
of a hot shower.
They come as I wander home
or as I sit quietly,
tending my soul.
They offer no warning
and ask no permission
which might seem rude
were it not for the excitement
of their spontaneity.
With haste or delicious slowness
they fill the inner landscape
until I am a wine
sloshing over the sides
of a crystal goblet.
Overflowing and urgent
they spill out
and I am left, empty
satisfied and
waiting for our next encounter.
Love and courage,
Leah
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