musingsonwomenshealth.com

If
I stumble into a word
Somewhere
And pick it up,
Is it mine
Because I found it?
Is it like a penny:
Lost,
Hiding on the ground,
Hoping for a pocket,
Or maybe a mind
To store it safely
Inside
Where it has worth
Again?
Would it be
Stealing
If I used it later,
Instead of confessing
It wasn’t always mine?
Pretending
I hadn’t seen it
Lying there;
Hadn’t stroked its surface
Uninvited,
With my thoughts –
Or worse-
My lips?
And
If it hadn’t had
A value
To someone else –
Had been merely dropped,
Before the sound had reached their mouth-
Were they the losers,
Or were they only free
Of something
They’d never really had?
Never understood?
Did they wonder if the word
Would be a millstone
Around someone else’s tongue
Instead of theirs,
Or think
It would be a weed
In a garden
They could never tend?
Would they change their minds
If they realized
It might become
A flower?