Does it really matter, this pitter-patter
And seemingly endless empty chatter?
For all I know, these words may reek
Of thoughts hiding, playing hide-and-seek.
Buried into the brain, forgotten and captured
But now under light patently enraptured.
A clot on the soul, arose from the mystique
Now waiting surgery, salvaged and complete.
From my fingers to your hands, awaking
With lips quivered and mind a-shaking.
So here’s my word, and may they impart
A rooted nod and patient to the heart.
© 2017 Valerie Hathaway