This Language Is Mine

The letters belong to me.
They move at my command.
They line up in curious rows
To express my poem and prose.

The words huddle together.
They make friends and hold hands.
They chat with one another
To put forth the idea I demand.

The sounds do sing my song.
They whisper and they laugh.
They weep and love and play
To render my thoughts of the day.

Copyright 2014. L.L. Shelton.

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