Whimsacal Ways of the Word

My heart’s on my sleeve

My foot’s in my mouth

My ears want to hear music

While my head’s in the clouds

My visions in the future

My legs walking me from the past

My temper’s slow to anger

And my tongue speaks too fast


In the midst of this chaos

And while parts of me run wild

I forget how to voice who I am

And end up coming off shy

But when my words escape me

And my thoughts take flight

They eventually assemble when

My hand starts to write

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