Words are my ice cream cone rewards;
they are my congratulatory kisses,
my "go to your room" punishments,
and my everyday passings.
Words are my happy
and my sad;
my pleasure, pain, and questions.
Sometimes I spoon feed my words to others.
Mostly I eat them myself.
Yes, I'll have seconds.
Thanks.
I'm welcome.
Stomach upset,
but words are whiskey in my tea
and the warmest blanket to curl up in.
I'm going to sleep now,
and words are my dreams.
Tomorrow they will be my waking
and my learning.
Words will be my growing
and my letting go.
Right now they are my tired.