For me to speak
was difficult
until
with nervous strain
the words flowed forth
as if the dike had burst.
On cue you spoke--
I listened
picking words
I had to hear then
swept the rest aside.
The words I chose
grew boldly,
an illusion,
as I paired them
in my mind and
as I heard them said again
in thought
I formed the story new.
Is it not sad that when
I spoke again
and waited your response
you blundered,
for you had not
read the script.
© Wendy J Hanson
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