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

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