There are words;
in my head,
in my room,
in my dream.
There are words everywhere. Words as I stand in line, count out paper and coins. Words as I cross the road, rush home. Words as I walk the street towards my house. I mumble them under my breath, imprint them on my mind, repeat them over and over and over. I climb the stairs , loyal as a dog the words follow me up all 56 concrete steps. I search for my key, struggle with the lock. Heavy bags of groceries slide from my shoulder, juicy apples roll through the hallway. I kneel down, pick the fruit one by one, while words roll forward in my head, crashing into many more words waiting there.
Could be the beginning of a story,
the start of something new.
I run to my desk, look for paper, take the pen in my hand.
There were words once
But then all the words are gone.